


Protectors of Metropolis

by llamasonasurfboard



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: (She lives in space), AU, Also Damian will forever be short, And also fuckin mad, And it's all weird, And there are close to 0 people with superpowers, And they're not damian's adoptive brothers, Because I am lazy and just look through it quickly, Bruce is not a good dad, Bruce was never batman, But Clark is superman, But I would also stare if I saw Damian, But it's an AU like I said, Damian is a celebrity, Damian summed up pretty much, Gives you some info, Grammatic errors btw, He is blessed™, He is such a good fren to Dami, He's adorable, He's got the looks of a god, I know metropolis is like rich, Jason is a saint, Multi, My favorite little shits, No but really, No one gives two shits about the criminality, Screw the rules i have money, She's wiped off the earth, So Jon has to be our savior, Talia is gone, The gay is strong with Jon, The other three robins were never robins, and I'm sorry, can't blame him, fite me, he tries, i love talking in the tags, very important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:26:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llamasonasurfboard/pseuds/llamasonasurfboard
Summary: As the son to the previous protector of Metropolis, Jon feels the need to spend every night of his in protection of the people. He does the regular things, helping people from getting mugged and murdered in the corrupt and poor city that is Metropolis.But, as faith would have it, one night when he's out patrolling he stumbles upon someone that he'd classify as the most intriguing boy he's ever met. Then his mission isn't only to protect Metropolis, but also to find out who that mysterious but oh-so desirable boy truly is.[Alternative Universe]





	1. Jonathan Kent, The One (and Currently Only) Protector of Metropolis

**Author's Note:**

> Hellui~
> 
> So this is an AU, as stated both in the description and the tags. Metropolis is poor and corrupt, Gotham is rich and practically crime-free *pretends to be shocked* I know, it's not like it actually is, but having the cities this way fits with what I want my story to be like. Besides, it's in an alternative universe.
> 
> It's also my first story regarding these two little gays- guys that I actually take seriously. Sort of, I can't really take anything seriously, and it's my second work in the DCU. I've written fan fiction before but in the form of Bandom, so any mistakes from my side is purely because of not having enough knowledge (I got like interested two weeks ago).
> 
> But this is - like stated before - an AU so hey, I can do pretty much what I want, right? The first chapter also sort of works like a prologue, so the upcoming chapters will probably be longer (I tend to write chapters three times this length, bad habit of mine).
> 
> Yes, I talk a lot, although only to myself. I am very shy and self conscious haha- whatever no one reads these notes anyways.

He didn’t like seeing people getting beat up. He didn’t like to see the sadistic smile on the boy’s face as he beat the other one senseless with a baseball bat. It was nothing but wrong and utterly disgusting about it, but he also knew that he couldn’t do anything about it, at least not in broad daylight. He was sure he wasn't the only one who wanted to help, he didn’t miss the glances the other civilians threw over to the two boys. But just like him, there was nothing they could do.

Jon felt the anger rising inside of him as he heard the young boy let out a cry of pain, and the other one telling him to shut up. It was just ridiculous how no one did anything about it, and if it wasn't for the fact that he possessed superpowers that he’d probably end up revealing, Jon would have done something about it long ago. It was painful both to see and hear, and as he passed by the two he had to force himself not to punch the guy. He had to compose himself, not reveal what he was to the public eye.

The teen walked past the two men, trying his hardest at ignoring them and making it to the subway. As usual, it was filled to the brim with people. The fact that Jon was 6’2 and weighed a good two hundred pounds - which was mainly because of muscles - made it slightly harder for him to fit into such cramped up spaces. This time was no different, and he ended up between an old lady and two creepily alike twins. He was sure the old lady smashed the tip of her umbrella into his foot before she got off the subway, probably because he took up so much space. It’s not like he could help the fact that he was so big, or well, he could stop working out, but in Jon’s world that was not an option.

It took about ten minutes for him to reach the small apartment complex that he and his mother lived in. He met a small cat on his way to the apartment, and if he could he would probably have given it something to eat. It was small and very skinny, and some big patches of hair was missing from it. He was just a couple of inches short from petting it, when he realized that most of the city’s animals that looked close to death were suffering from some disease.

Not wanting to contract it, Jon gave the small thing a sympathized look before he walked the last few meters to his apartment. It wasn’t a big one, so to say. The vast majority of the population in Metropolis were poor, and Jon’s family were no exception. They weren’t the sort of brim-to-be-homeless poor, and they were certainly glad for that. His mother, Lois, had a stable job with a little less than normal income, but what brought their money down so much was the incredibly expensive taxes and price on pretty much everything in the city. A simple bubble gum could cost up to five dollars.

“Hi, Jon,” a voice called out behind him, and Jon turned around right before he was supposed to unlock the door. Behind him was one of his neighbors standing, Kathy. She was a pleasant enough girl, someone who he’s known now for about five years. They didn’t start off too good as when Jon had moved he wasn’t in the best of places. Before, he, his mother and his father had been living together. But his father, Clark, was an avid peace maker, and with his superpowers he’d tried to go against the corrupt government. But it an awful ending to a good story - he ended up in a specially built prison. Jon wasn’t sure what had happened to him after that, as if he demanded any answers from the authority he’d be turned down immediately. The joy of living in a dictatorship.

“Hey,” Jon answered and pushed up his glasses on his nose.

“You’re back from training, I see,” she said and brushed some of her blonde hair behind one of her ears. It was pretty clear that she was eyeing him, nothing too surprising. Jon knew that she had grown up to take a liking to him, and while Jon had to say that she was rather beautiful, he didn’t exactly swing for that team. It was just that he didn’t have the confidence to tell her.

Jon looked down at himself. She probably took note to the fact that he was wearing fitness clothes and that his hair was still rather wet from the shower he took after the training pass. “Yeah, thought I was going to do something productive now during the summer break. I mean all those sweets I stuffed into myself during the first third of the break haven’t really been helping me in keeping the physicality,” he laughed a little, Kathy giggling quietly at his joke.

“Well, I have to go help dad at the farm, he called on me because Betsy was having some more problems,” she scrunched up her nose a little, getting Jon to smile. “See you around,” she smiled at him, waving lightly before skipping down the stairs. He yelled a ‘good luck’ to her before he unlocked the apartment door and went inside, closing the heavy door after him.

Lois wasn’t home yet, working extensively to be able to afford pretty much anything in the city. She didn’t have a lot of time to spend with her son and especially not when he had homework to do. A lot of times she’d come home well into the night, and Jon felt sorry for his mother. He really hoped that once he was out of school, he’d be able to get himself a job and cut down on the work hours his mother had.

The clock was about six when Jon decided that he would make himself some food. His mother had yet to come home, and he suspected that it was going to be a long night. If he’d been younger, Lois would have a lot of more work on her hands, but Jon was now seventeen and able to take care of himself without any problem. He’d learnt that when he was twelve, and thought that his cooking was a little better than average. Years of self-learning and multiple tests had paid of at least.

The teen spend most of his evening by the TV, zapping through the channels. He got stuck on a channel that was running a TV show about some girl with superpowers herself. Apparently she had gotten her powers from some weird ancient stone and could now turn things into plants. It was strange to watch, but Jon had to say that it was indeed captivating. She’d even turned her boyfriend into a plant, but was unable to reverse the effects and was now out to find some way of reversing it. A unique but breathtaking love story.

About five hours of watching the show (it was a marathon, a very convenient one), Jon realized that he couldn’t spend the whole time lazily watching a TV show that he didn’t actually care about. So he decided to turn the TV off, clean up the dishes from dinner and walk into his messy teenage bedroom. It’s not like he had the time to clean up whatever was on the floor, or well he actually did, but Jon was lazy. Even if he possessed both super speed and strength, it never fell in for him to actually clean anything up. He was a teenager for fucks sake.

By now, the sun had started to go down, and it was rather dark outside. Unlike normal teenagers who’d probably either stay at home, cuddled up in their bed and watch some TV show or go out with some friends - Jon was going out to hunt down criminals. It was a thing he’d picked up on ever since his dad was taken by the government, and Jon had personally made it his duty to keep the city at bay. Criminality was already bad in the broad daylight, but at night it was way worse.

Just like when he was younger, Jon had his own costume. It was simple, a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt. He had a sweatshirt jean jacket over that, with an emblem similar to what his father used to have on the back of It. It wasn’t supposed to stick out in any sort or form, he wanted to keep a low profile, unlike with what he used to wear when he was younger. He had realized that black was a lot better to wear during the night than blue and red.

After having put on his ‘superhero outfit’, he trudged over to the kitchen to write a note to his mother about how he was out fighting crime. She knew about it, and while she didn’t necessarily approve of it, she didn’t tell him not to do it. It’s not like Jon could get hurt anyways, his invulnerability prevented anything from piercing his skin and any sort of punch or kick that landed on him didn’t hurt. He wasn’t trying to stop the government either, so there were no attempts at stopping him either.

Before walking out on the streets Jon used his x-ray vision to make sure no one was in the apartment nor outside by it. He didn’t want to be caught leaving the complex looking like that, it would possibly leave a lot of questions raised for the ones catching him. People knew about the Superboy roaming the streets, just not who was behind it all.

When out, Jon flew up into the air to get a good look of the city. Somewhere in the city there always something going on, whether it was some innocent fun or a full on beating. He’d been out patrolling enough times to know that two people joking around could leave to someone getting brutally stabbed. The criminality in the city was getting higher by each year, and for some reason the government did nothing about it. Probably because the head of them all was supposedly immortal, not having any need to fear any threats directed towards him.

The first thing Jon stumbled upon as he flew over the city was a man assaulting an older couple, and within a few seconds the problem was solved. He had simply threatened the man, told him to stop and casually threw him across the street. It wasn’t necessarily the best option, but as the man looked up from his broken state on the ground the horror was clear in his eyes. Most people reacted the same, ran away once they witnessed the smallest of his powers.

While Jon never liked to resort to violence, he knew that simple words wouldn’t stop something serious like a full on assault. Clark had never liked taking on too much violence either, but with the brutal assaults, murders, gun downs- everything really, Jon had decided that he couldn’t simply stop them by a little punch to the gut. He wanted to strike fear in them, he needed to strike fear in them.

But, as harsh as he was towards the criminals, he was really soft towards innocent civilians. The old couple were okay, and thanked him for finding them at the right time. The man had only gotten to hit the older woman twice before he showed up, and the teen escorted them home. He didn’t want them to run into any more trouble.

Jon continued on his nightly shift, stopping someone from stabbing a woman and her toddler (that wasn’t too unusual) to getting a kid to give back a wallet he took from a man. The brutality in some of the crimes sometimes made Jon sick. How could anyone possibly commit such a thing like murder or rape? It would never seize to amaze him how far certain people would go for what they wanted, it was like they had no boundaries. They were monsters, monsters that should never have been set free.

As the clock neared one am, Jon was beginning to start a little tired. He didn’t like whenever his eyelids would get too heavy, so much that he couldn’t even continue to fight, and his lightheadedness was a sign for that. So, trying to keep himself awake, he actively searched for a crime. The biggest percentage of them took place in any sort of alley, where most criminals thought they avoided the public’s eye - and well, they weren’t wrong. They didn’t go undetected by Jon’s eye however, and his eye spotted a fight going on in an alley he flew over.

A light sigh left his lips, and without hesitation he flew down towards the fight. Wanting nothing to do with whatever gang were having their conflict, Jon decided to land on the roof of one of the building’s surrounding the alley to examine the situation. The people didn’t seem notice him appearing, which in all honesty wasn’t too surprising, but as Jon was about to jump down in an old fashion superhero way, something caught his eye. Or, someone caught his eye.

It wasn’t a brawl between two gangs; it was someone against one gang. One gang that had about ten men going against the poor soul. The one being attacked didn’t seem to need any help however. Whoever they were they were certainly skilled in combat, seemingly having close to no problem. It looked more like a dance than a fight, kicking and slicing with their goddamned swords as if it was nothing. It was rather gracious however, and if it wasn’t for the sheer brutality in their way of senselessly beating the other men, Jon would have enjoyed the ‘show’ - how much you now could enjoy such a thing.

One by one were the men taken down, throats cut, arms and ribs broken, kicked into unconsciousness. Jon wasn’t sure if they were good or bad. When one person was single handedly fighting masses of other people, they were usually the good guy. But in this case Jon couldn’t determine if they truly were good. Most good guys didn’t downright murder the people they were going against, at least not in the comics and books that Jon read frequently.

As the person snapped the last man’s neck, letting him fall limp next to them, silence covered the alley. Jon held his breath, waiting for the next move of them. Which admittedly, was a lot more dramatic than what it should have been as they took off their hood and moved the cape they were wearing so it wasn’t covering their whole body but only their back. Jon now saw that it was a guy, and fuck if he wasn’t absolutely stunning. He may have been wearing a mask over his eyes, but from what Jon could see with his supervision, he was downright beautiful. 

He had short, black hair which was probably standing up in the slightest thanks to hair gel or hair spray. There seemed to be a scowl on his face, and his pink lips were pulled into a slight frown. He had a lean body, one that was not as muscular as Jon’s but to him it was noticeable that he worked out. Despite that however, he seemed rather short. Jon couldn’t directly tell, but if he compared to the objects around him, he did seem rather short.

The boy put the swords he was wielding back in the sword holders, which in turn were hanging loosely on his hips in the form of a belt, and he mindlessly kicked one of the guys’ heads. He seemed to have no care in the world as it lulled from one side to the other, and a snarky grin spread out over his desirable lips.

“I’m not blind, Superboy,” a sharp but rather light voice suddenly called out, and the boy on the ground looked up directly at where Jon was standing. “You’re not really hiding, so to speak,” he crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side.

Jon immediately felt his face flush, and he hesitated for a second, before deciding to hover down to where the other were standing. His sneaker clad feet softly hit the ground, and Jon noticed that he was indeed right. Whoever was standing in front of him was short, about a whole head shorter than himself. But then again, Jon wasn’t the most average height for a male, but most people he knew weren’t whole heads shorter than him. At least not most guys.

“Who are you?” Jon asked cautiously, squinting his eyes at the one in front of him.

He only let out a snort however, and shook his head in disbelief. “That is none of your concerns,” he said rather formally, and Jon was already beginning to suspect that this guy wasn’t from Metropolis. Not with that language at least. “Who I am will by any means have to remain a secret, a secret only I know. I simply called you down to take a better look at the city’s protector, I’ve never had the chance to see you up close myself.”

“How did you know I was there? I never saw you looking up at me.”

“There was no need for me to do such a thing, I simply felt your presence.”

Jon frowned, looking back up at where he was standing previously, and then down to the boy in front of him. He’d never seen him around, and for Jon not seeing someone before, that was rather unique. Especially if the guy possessed such skills and wore those vibrant colors. Apparently he didn’t think the same way Jon did, red, green and yellow were apparently very fitting clothes for crime fighting in the middle of the night. He did have a black cape to his credit though.

“Are you a good or a bad guy?” Jon then asked. “Can’t tell with the way you had no mercy upon these men,” he looked over to where a man was lying on the ground, head almost completely torn off from his neck. It was a gruesome sight, and a shiver went down Jon’s spine before he turned to the boy again.

“Depends on who’s perspective you see me from,” he said calmly, his lips turning into yet another smirk. “But as you were the one who questioned, I suppose you would call me a good guy. A good guy having no mercy upon the ones who dare to cross his path. It is simply not my fault that these men made it their mission to viciously attack me.”

“But you didn’t have to murder them,” Jon mumbled, stroking his bangs to the side.

“I don’t posses superpowers like you do, Superboy,” He said, lips drawing out into a thin line. “It’s either do or die, my skin is after all pierceable and I am capable of feeling pain. These men’s lives were not that important anyways. More criminals roaming free on the streets is not a good idea, and not anything I would encourage,” there was something lacing his voice, as if he knew that Jon usually let the bad guys go. It was slightly haunting, and it put Jon on the edge as he puffed out his chest a little as to look more intimidating. It seemed to have close to no effect on the mysterious boy in front of him.

He sighed however and turned on his heel, the small heel on his knee-high boots clapping against the ground, the sound in itself echoing against the walls in a daunting manor. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Superboy. Next time however, maybe you should try to hide a little better. Just a tip,” he turned around and saluted the teen, just before he rounded the corner.

Jon was left to stand in the alley, the sounds of cars filling his ears, the smell of blood filling his nose and the picture of the boy imprinted in his head. He’d never seen him around, but it seemed as if whoever they were knew who he was. It was a scary thought, someone knowing you and possibly even knowing your true identity, while you truly had no idea who they possibly were. Because really, Jon had close to no clues as to who they were. All he knew was to take in from their rather staggering beauty, and while it was something to go on, there were millions of people living in Metropolis. Then again however, they didn’t necessarily have to be from Metropolis, which only made the search even bigger. His language or tone didn’t say he was from Metropolis, but what the hell would someone from the other cities do here? Metropolis was a city no one wanted to visit. But it’s not like he was there to go on a vacation, rather more to fight some bad guys.

His thoughts led him nowhere, and Jon sighed, his head way too tired to actually grip the whole situation. He decided to fly back to his apartment, yet again using his x-ray vision to check so no one was in the complex. It was always a little creepy to do so, he didn’t want to accidentally creep on someone while they were possibly taking a shower, but for the sake of his own safety it was worth it. Even if it was very creepy to see an old woman getting out from the shower dressed in nothing.

The apartment was unsurprisingly dark and still when Jon opened up the door. He made sure to lock it after himself - with the crime rates so high it wouldn’t be too surprising if someone broke into their apartment - and took off his shoes and jacket as quietly as he possibly could. He heard his mother’s even breaths from her bedroom and a part of him calmed down at the knowledge of her being safe and well. After all, being outside when it was dark could leave to the end of your life.

Jon changed into his usual nightwear and crawled into bed, his eyelids feeling heavy. He wanted to sleep, really, or it was more like he needed to sleep, but as he thrashed around in his bed all that was on his mind was the boy he’d met earlier. It was just something intriguing about him, something that made him ever the more desirable. Not that Jon wanted him in that sort of way - although he wouldn’t complain if he could - but there was this little something about him. This little something that affected Jon in such a way that he wanted to meet him again.

Yeah, tomorrow, Jon was going out on patrol again, and he would meet the cute boy who he was sure wasn’t from Metropolis.


	2. Damian Wayne, Son to a Famous Billionaire and a Striking Model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some insight on Damian’s life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3 am, I'm supposed to go up in six hours to watch Spider-man later today, and I'm exhausted. But I have this chapter, which admittedly doesn't have the greatest of endings, but I didn't want the chapter to be too long as I wanted to challenge myself in writing shorter chapters (guess how well that went).
> 
> I decided to write from the perspective of Damian as well, to give his character more form. I didn't reveal too much about his escapades in Metropolis in this chapter, but expect it to later. Dick is also such a wonderful caretaker, my sweet baby (even if you're my least favorite Robin). If I can't fit a Jason appearance somewhere I'll do it anyways.
> 
> I also changed a few things in my plans (I haven't planned out the whole story yet I know rip me) so there will peobably be some inconsistency somewhere. Bruce was one of the major changes I made. He started off as this rather nice but cold dad and is now really rude. But I will serve him justice I swear (he has his reasons).
> 
> Also... This is sort of a filler but if you like fillers enjoy. Okay it does give Damian a character and certain motives for future references, but still. I'm still developing this tired mess so sorry~
> 
> Whatevah, enjoy

Business meetings had never been anything for Damian. From the very first business meeting he attended when he was ten to now that he was twenty, it was more painful than anything. It was his duty to a degree, he was to help out with the work at Wayne Enterprises one day, even if he’d voiced his disgust for the matter a number of times. Bruce was a stern man, and his son was to take over what he had built up.

Most of the times he drew on the papers he had, there was essentially nothing better to do. Even if he was twenty, he didn’t enjoy acting like the adult he was taken for. It was rare for him to find any sort of free time for himself, especially during the day, leaving the night to be his escape. He was however commonly excused to do art, a hobby that was seen to be ‘sophisticated enough’ for the billionaire's son. Damian thought it was utter bullshit however, finding a lot of other activities to be rather entertaining as well. Besides, art wasn’t seen as that sophisticated as it may have done years ago.

“Don’t ever let me catch you destroying the papers during a meeting again,” Bruce muttered to his son as the two excited the meeting. “It is highly disrespectful and is not seen in a good light in anyone’s eyes. Understood?” he threw a harsh glare to his son, who looked up at him with a frown on his face.

“Yes, father,” he mumbled, turning his gaze forward again. Bruce grunted something unintelligible and sped up his pace, a sign of impatience with his - according to him - intolerant son. Whenever Damian did something that Bruce didn’t agree with and the two were walking, he’d always speed up his pace, forcing Damian and his short legs to catch up with him. Since the two rarely spend any time together, it was mostly before, during and after meetings that they were at the same place. Otherwise Bruce was busy with his work, and Damian was left with his studies.

The young man was sent home by his father, apparently no longer needed at work. He was thankful for that, as the tension between the two was clear. It’s not like Damian wanted to join his father to work anyways, Bruce always stated that he may need Damian to aid him in his work, which was ridiculous. He had his personal assistant, Tim Drake, to take care of such things. Tim had even stated that himself, but alas, Bruce was set on making Damian into the business man he himself was. He didn’t do a bad job, rather quite the opposite, but business was not what Damian was set on doing for the rest of his life. He wanted his life to be an adventure, an adventure not spend in front of a computer and going to meetings.

When Damian stepped outside of the massive building dressed in his snazzy suit, his caretaker was outside, leaning against the car. Unlike everyone else who worked with his father, his own caretaker was rather laidback. He was in late twenties, but had taken care of Damian ever since he was a little boy. Alongside Damian’s old teacher, Dick was one of the two people that Damian could talk about normal things to. He was generally nice, and not too strict on Damian’s rather blunt and stuck-up behavior. It was always a nice tone of change.

“Master Damian,” Dick greeted him with a snarky grin. Just like Damian himself, he thought the whole title thing was utterly ridiculous. There was always irony lacing the word, as long as another worker wasn’t around. He didn’t want to lose his job for some stupid remark he made. But then again, Bruce was partly in need of Dick as he was one of the very few people that Damian truly listened to and respected. There had been multiple of other workers who had tried getting inside Damian’s skin, but no one had succeeded quite like Dick had.

The young man sneered at him, but nodded nonetheless. At least he had some common sense. “Father did apparently not see me fit for joining him at work this day. Unclear as to why, but my assumptions lies in the fact that I had an urge to ‘destroy’ the documents I was given. And by ‘destroy’, I mean draw. Must have been seen as something barbaric by father,” he sneered again, and glared daggers at Dick, who was reaching out to open the passenger door of the car.

Damian, who did not need any help in opening a car door, opened it himself and got inside. He heard a small laugh leave Dick, and he glared at the older before he slammed the door shut. He put his belt on as Dick walked around the hood of the car and sat down in the driver’s seat, putting on his belt as well.

“You getting home?” Dick asked casually as he loosened up his tie and looked himself in the rearview mirror. Always having to look his best, a thing that was a high priority for Dick. Not only because he didn’t want to seem less formal than the other workers working under or alongside Bruce, but he wanted to impress on the ladies. Apparently they were quite a high priority in his life, something Damian never would understand.

He nodded at his caretaker’s question, and leaned against the window. Dick started the car and drove away, turning on the radio to drown out the silence. It was evident that Damian wasn’t in the mood for talking, and Dick respected that, it’s not like it was the first time it happened. It was more common than uncommon, Damian wasn’t a talkative person.

The drive wasn’t too awfully long, about ten minutes long. But with Damian’s impatience and need to get out of that fucking suit, he was quickly out of the car and in the house. He completely ignored the welcoming gestures from the other workers, only greeting Alfred, the only one who’d worked with them ever since he was born. Also one of the very few workers who had his full respect.

Damian closed his bedroom door after him and stopped for a second, sighing. It was always like that when he returned home from something. He was tired, both mentally and physically. Being out in public terrified him, and especially when there were lots of people around. There was nothing good about being famous, especially not about being famous, young, rich, so called beautiful and single.

A number of women had tried to get together with him ever since he’d entered his mid teens, and at first he’d played around a little with them. But approximately a year into it and it got rather annoying, so he decided to become an even bigger asshole than he already was considered. He’d continuously be rude to the ‘mistresses’ that were interested in him, only to see them crawling back to him. It sure as hell wasn’t because of his personality, he knew then, and by each woman that came he became ruder and ruder. It could almost be to the point where it would have been called abuse, but it wasn’t until Bruce decided that just maybe he should stop trying to get his son into relationships without his agreement, that it finally came to an end.

Damian knew however that it wasn’t because of how bad he felt over forcing his son into a relationship, but because the women who had been with Damian had started to tell the public and given him a bad image. The claims against him were pretty much gone by now. All he had to was give an apology over the internet and tell the people that he hadn’t been feeling alright for a while - which was true - and that he’d hopefully be better soon. By now, about two years later, people seemed to have forgotten about it completely. But Damian was still not gone from the public’s eyes.

He’d been sought after ever since he was born. Back then people were cooing at how adorable he was as a toddler, then when he was a young kid he was cute, as a pre-teen he was pretty, as a teenager he was hot and now as a young man he was considered beautiful, stunning, attractive, dazzling - pretty much every word to describe someone appealing. He was no doubt tired of being dubbed as one of the world’s most appealing men. He’d gladly give that title to Dick, who in turn actually seemed like he wanted it.

To Damian, there was nothing about him that was so attractive. Sure, maybe it was because it was himself he was talking about, but he didn’t see the appeal. He was the child of Bruce Wayne, one of the most successful businessmen of the times and Talia al Ghul, one of the most attractive models to ever walk the Earth - but was money and looks everything everyone always sought after? It sure seemed so to Damian at least, and he sure as hell knew that it was true.

A quick look in the mirror, and Damian already felt the anger rising in his chest. Why the hell was it that he was the son to two of the world’s most famous people? Two of the world’s richest people? Two of the world’s most beautiful people? He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it at all. He was more of a shell than anything else. There was no personality to him, only money and looks.

Of course he knew that was gonna happen. Everyone who worked with him used to say he’d grow up to be the male version of his mother, and heck if they weren’t right. The only thing that Damian had inherited from his father was the hair color and the ice cold look in his eyes. Otherwise he had the same eyes and eye color, nose, lips - face in general really, as his mother. He’d even managed to get her rather slim body type and thinner hands. The only thing that he didn’t inherit from any of his parents was his height, which seemed to have taken a hit. He was shorter than both his parents.

Nonetheless, Damian got out of his suit and dressed in a pair of shorts and simple t-shirt, throwing a hoodie over his rather small figure. He wasn’t that small really, but compared to his father he considered himself small. Especially with his height. Bruce stood at 6’2 while Damian was a mere 5’7. It was ridiculous to him, and he didn’t know exactly how many times he’d been ridiculed because of it. All he knew was that it was too many.

As he stepped outside his room again he met Dick, who was leaning against the wall next to his door, phone in his hands. He looked up as he saw Damian, who raised on one of his eyebrows with a bitter face. “Hello, Little D,” he greeted, earning a well deserved glare from the younger. “Your father texted me about how you and him were supposed to meet up with actress Selina Kyle for dinner at six, so he would appreciate it if you didn’t start with some major art project. The clock is soon to be three, so maybe you could just spend your time studying?”

Damian groaned loudly and turned back around into his room again, making a beeline for his bed. He plopped down and leaned his arms against his legs, putting his chin in his hands. Dick peeked into his room, a small and sympathetic smile on his lips. He knew that Damian was going to react like that, Selina wasn’t necessarily someone that Damian enjoyed the company of. She was mostly just a random woman who’d managed to get into Bruce’s good books, and someone that Damian desperately hoped would disappear from their lives soon.

There wasn’t anything directly bad about her. She wasn’t rude to him, quite the opposite actually, and she didn’t seem too snobby. But yet there was something about her that seemed to trigger something in Damian that made him feel disgusted around her. It was like a bad feeling he just had in his backbone. He didn’t really know where it came from, but it just existed.

“I know that you don’t like Selina,” Dick said and walked over to where Damian was, sitting down next to him. “But you’ve only met her a handful of times. Maybe she just happened to leave a bad impression on you. After all, she has only spoken to you in the company of Bruce, and maybe she acts a little different around as she sees him as a business partner.”

“In what world would an actress condone any business with a businessman who does not belong in the show business,” Damian deadpanned. “My mind is set on her intentions being rather malicious, possibly to ruin father’s career. If not, I do believe she is set out to begin a relationship with father and replace what mother once had been to him. Or even worse, she has plans on getting closer to me. After all, father is in his late forties and she in her early thirties, such a relationship would be frowned upon.”

Dick sighed beside him and ruffled around his hair, something he’d grown rather accustomed to do. “Maybe she just wants to be the Wayne family’s friend. Everyone on Earth don’t want to ruin your life, Damian. Just because you’ve had a few bad run ins doesn’t it mean everyone are like that. I mean look at me, I’m nice.”

“Grayson, you’re not like everyone else,” Damian mumbled, making Dick frown. Not only because of the fact that Damian had just called him by his last name, something he hadn’t done ever since he’d turned eighteen and thought that the biggest formalities should be dropped, but also because of the sincerity in his his voice. It wasn’t often that he had actual emotion in the words he spoke, and especially not any that were leaning towards sadness.

Dick wrapped a comforting arm around Damian’s shoulders, pulling the younger a little closer to him. Damian wasn’t having any of it however, as he was quick to repose away from him, grunting. “I do not need any assistance, Grayson. My caretaker you may be, but my childhood has been long forgotten. Now, I would appreciate if you’d leave me alone, I need to prepare for father and I’s meeting with Selina.” he got up from the bed and walked over to his walk-in-closet, opening the doors with a firm grip.

“Damian,” Dick tried, but only got a scoff as an answer. It was evident that Damian was not up for conversing, and so after a few seconds of silence, Dick got up from the bed with a sigh. He left the room and closed the door after him softly as not to disturb the young man in his thinking. The smallest of actions could trigger an outburst in Damian. He’d never been good at containing his angry emotions.

Instead of looking through the closet, Damian decided to draw something. Dick had told him not to start any big art project, like the one where he had painted his whole ceiling like a galaxy (that did not sit well with Bruce), but he could always make smaller drawings. A few of them did he publish on his social media, and people did seem to enjoy his art. But of course, with every famous person out there who didn’t ‘earn’ their fame, people were accusing him of art theft. Of course they’d find nothing, Damian was capable of drawing and painting. He had an immense talent and passion for it.

The young man took his art supplies, a simple graphite pen and a simple sketch pad, and sat down by his desk. Like a lot of times when there was frustration bundled up inside of him, he just let his hand move on its own. It was acting on emotion, not any rational thoughts. There was no specific motive on his mind, only emotions to express whatever he was feeling. Only that he didn’t know what he actually was feeling.

There was an obvious anger, something that always resided at the bottom of his heart. It had been there for as long as he could remember. Him lashing out at his mother was one of his earlier memories, and one of the very few he had of his mother. She had been one of the major factors as to why he had borderline anger issues. The pressure of him being the perfect son had started when he was born - he was going to be the perfect mashup between his father and mother.

To an extent, he became just that. He had the beauty, he had the smarts. In the public eye he acted like his mother, open, joyful, seductive - but unlike her, he was absolutely false. Talia had loved the spotlight, she had drowned in the love the public gave her and always kept a smile on her full lips. She loved the attention, and when it was announced that she was pregnant with her fiancé, Bruce Wayne’s baby, the tabloids went wild.

They had hoped for a baby just as beautiful as Talia to bless the public’s eye, and they got what they wanted. Damian had been so called ‘blessed’ with Talia’s godlike looks, and the people loved it. He was the child that people had expected, the child that people wanted. Only that he wasn’t. He was only the child the people wanted on the outside. Out of every celebrity out in the world, Damian felt like the fakest. Close to not a single thing of what Damian showed to the public was real, he didn’t want the public to see it.

He was an actor and the world was his stage. Every word he spoke was according to the script. There was emotion behind it, but not his actual emotions. Hence why he never liked being in public or speaking to other celebrities - he was so incredibly fake. But it’s nothing the public knew about. Or, the women he’d been with had told the public, but since he easily could blame it on not feeling well people had swept it away. He was never nice behind closed door. Snobby, crude, egotistical - words Damian had heard being directed to him numerous of times.

It was a choice he’d made long ago. Sure that there was always going to be something negative within him, and that there would always be some snide remark leaving his lips, but he knew a part of it was an act as well. Not even behind closed doors could he be his true self, not even in front of himself. He didn’t dare to show his true colors - he was afraid of himself. He was afraid of what he could feel, especially towards others.

After years of knowing him, Dick had carved his way under Damian’s skin. It had only taken him a good few ten years. His former teacher, Jason, had managed to make him loosen up a little. The two could have a normal conversation going between them, and occasionally, Jason would get a good laugh out of the other. He was one of the few people that Damian would willingly call his friend. Being homeschooled led him to be more incapable at handling social situations in an accepting way, learning him to having a hard time connecting with people. Then he never made any attempts at actually getting a friend and sure that his status could easily earn him one, but whether they were real or not was up to debate.

Damian stopped. A light sigh left his pink lips and he positioned his hands in his lap, looking down at the drawing with his delicate green eyes. As he had predicted, the paper was an absolute mess. It was just a blob of nothingness, and the young man realized that it was exactly what he was feeling. His thoughts were mangled up with each other, he couldn’t grasp what he was thinking and that is what exactly got onto the paper.

He shoved the sketch pad onto the floor, bending the papers, leaving obvious marks on them. Not that it was something he cared about anyways, his drawings were never anything precious to him. Except for the one he’d given to Dick for his twenty-fifth birthday, which depicted Dick when he was a child. It was a photo that he’d sent to Damian a while ago and he’d remembered that he’d told him how that was one of the happiest times in his life. Dick had apparently gotten so happy with the gift that he started to cry and engulfed Damian in a hug, something that didn’t sit too well with the young lad.

Another one that Damian could say he was proud of was one he drew of Gotham burning. He’d snapped a photo of Gotham on the top of a rooftop and then copied that one, adding the flames and destruction himself of course. When his old teacher Jason had finished his job in teaching Damian, the teen had decided to give it to him. While Jason hadn’t started crying like Dick had, he had given Damian a hug (and lifted him off the ground, like the macho man he was) and told him how proud he was of him. A warm feeling had spread through Damian’s chest then, a feeling he hadn’t felt in forever. He knew that it was happiness, as a smile spread out on his lips (which in turn got Jason a little teary eyed, nothing he’d obviously admit though). It was rare for Damian to smile genuinely, it was mostly just smirks and grins, but when he did people described it as the sun shining through the clouds after it had rained. Damian still didn’t really get the description.

The young man took his sketch pad back up from the floor and dropped it on his desk. He got up from the chair and trudged over to his own personal bathroom. If he was going to meet Selina Kyle he could at least look presentable, and even if he had showered yesterday he felt as if it would be better if he showered again. Father would probably have wanted him to do it anyways.

Damian turned on the water to the shower before he took a towel and started to undress. It took him about fifteen minutes to get properly clean. A bad habit of his was to scrub every part of his body to get everything off of him, and even if he knew that was not what you were supposed to do as your skin suffered from that, he couldn’t just randomly stopped. Neither would he stop with shampooing his hair two times to make it ever the more clean.

After having turned off the shower and dried himself, he wrapped the towel around his hips and walked out in his room. Something that always frightened him was the thought that someone would be in his room after he’d left the bathroom. It had happened twice before, and both times it was just Dick who was cleaning in his room. The first time Damian had attacked him without hesitation, thinking he was an intruder. As Damian knew multiple sorts of martial arts, getting Dick down to the floor wasn’t too hard, and just then had he realized it was his caretaker. Let’s say that Dick always made sure to check if Damian was in his room after that - except for that one other time.

Damian walked over to his walk in closet and put on a pair of underwear. He contemplated on what he was going to wear for shirt - with a wardrobe that big it was rather hard to chose - but settled on the basketball jersey that Jason had given to him when he’d finished his occupation. The word ‘Todd’ was written on it alongside the number 24, as apparently it had been Jason’s old high school jersey. But after an accident at a game he had to sit out for an undisclosed period of time, so he had decided to stop focusing on basketball and instead on his school work. It was that which had gotten him on the path of becoming a teacher, and Damian had to say that he was thankful for the fact that Jason fucked up on that game. He was someone that Damian valued in his life after all.

The clock was only four by now, so Damian decided to waste his time on his phone on his bed. There wasn’t a lot of fun to find on there, so he resided to look up some other random celebrities. He saw more news about singer Harley Quinn and her court case about her abusive long-term boyfriend, on comedian Lobo (which Damian thought was an utterly ridiculous name) who had accidentally run over a cat (that asshole, Damian thought) and how actor Hal Jordan still was in the hospital after his horrible car crash. All these three people were somehow connected to Metropolis, he noticed.

Harley had met her boyfriend when she was on a visit in Metropolis, Lobo temporarily lived in the city and Hal had been in the car crash when he was in Metropolis. Apparently someone had ruined one of his tires in some way, and the car had swerved off the road. Damian had never actually been to Metropolis. At an early age Bruce had strictly forbidden him from entering the city’s borders, finding the people residing inside were too dangerous. Even by now, years later, and Damian had yet to enter. Well, at least in the form of Damian Wayne.

For about a year by now, almost every night, had Damian sneaked out of the mansion. Alongside some ‘dangerous’ gadgets and weaponry he’d make his way to and through Metropolis using a pair of grappling hooks. He’d received intensive training as a form of self-defense when he was younger, and he later on continued on it when got older. From time to time he sparred with Jason, and even occasionally Dick, who’d been an excellent acrobat back in his younger days. Damian even had his own exercise room, so finding someplace to sparr was not a problem.

What was a problem however was finding some weapon to bring. He didn’t want to use a gun, having no interest in using one being the prime reason while finding difficulty in shooting someone and not wanting to have the annoyance of getting new bullets was the secondary ones. So instead he went with the two katanas, a gift he’d received from an old man who’d done business with his father. The old man, Shiro, was a nice one and was committed to give the two a gift. While Damian had gotten two katanas, Bruce had received some incense and to this day, he hadn’t touched them (even if his intellectual assistant, Tim, had told him that they would probably smell really nice).

So, the then sixteen year old had in secrecy trained while wielding the two swords. He’d managed to cut himself numerous of times, but had by now swift control over the force and movements. It was rather complicated to both handle the swords and move - especially jump - at the same time, but with his quick learning abilities, there was only a matter of time before he’d perfected that as well. He wasn’t totally faultless, numerous of times did he get out of sync, and thus resided to kicking people. There was nothing wrong with kicking people however, he got a rush out of that as well, even if his feet did occasionally hurt after the impact.

“Master Damian?” a slightly muffled voice said, accompanying a knock to the door. “May I come in?” Damian shot a quick look over to his clock, 17:14.

He cursed under his breath, wondering where the hell the time went. “Yes, you may enter.”

The door opened, and as expected did Dick step inside. He was bearing a small smile on his lips, and quietly, as not to disturb the frowning twenty year old, did he quietly close the door. “You are wearing your old teacher’s basketball jersey, I believe?” he walked over to Damian’s queen sized bed, sitting down next to where Damian was lying on his back.

“That is correct,” Damian said, keeping his eyes on his phone. “You must have been sent here by father to inform me that the clock has stricken a specific time that father wants me to get dressed,” he shut the phone down, moving his green emeralds to Dick’s face. There was some slight worry lingering over it, but as the two locked eyes it was immediately wiped away.

“That is correct,” Dick mimicked Damian’s words, mockery clear in his voice. “But yes, and he asked me in assisting you. He doesn’t trust your capabilities in choosing your own clothing, nor choosing the right cologne. I am also to assist in putting on your makeup, so I’d appreciate if this little shit,” he poked Damian in the side, getting him to squirm a little. “Would like to get up from the bed and join me in picking an outfit for tonight.”

Damian groaned lowly but got up from the bed, following his caretaker to his closet. Dick was always thrilled whenever he was to help Damian chose an outfit for any special event. There wasn’t as much time, energy and effort put into the usual clothes the youngster wore, and it was usually Damian who chose it himself - with the occasional help from Dick. The result was also something that Dick was proud of. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Damian could pretty much rock any look there was out there, just like his mother had.

“Black suit is what your father wanted you to go for,” Dick said, more to himself than anyone else. “You don’t have too many suits, but you do have more than what an average person would. I guess that Master Bruce just enjoys wearing suits more than what you do. I have never spotted him wearing an oversized hoodie, as an example.” He started to look through the suits, pulling them out from where they were hanging.

“There’s a minimal chance that father would manage to find a hoodie that is too big for him,” Damian said, glaring in the slightest at the older’s back. “I have a visibly smaller stature than what father does, and am also shorter. Therefore, it is much easier for me to find any artifact of clothing that is too big. For your information as well, it is you who have enforced me to purchase those hoodie’s. If I remember correctly, you’d envisioned me as cute in them. I must also inform you that I am in no way cute.”

“Maybe not, but you adorable,” he turned on his head to grin widely at Damian, who only rolled his eyes. “Not my words, it’s the press’. Then you are also, stunning, beautiful, sexy, handsome, elegant, gorgeous, charming-"

“I have already understood that I am every synonym to beautiful there is out there, Grayson,” Damian deadpanned, not wanting to hear more. He wasn’t interested, and it was not flattering in the least. “Instead of boosting my egotistical nature, how about you do some work and chose an outfit? While I do not want to go, it is unacceptable for me to look like I did not care. I want to pay my respects for Selina, despite my dislike towards her.”

Dick sighed, mumbling something under his breath as he continued to look for a more than presentable outfit. He finally settled on another one of Damian’s suits (there weren’t even that much of a difference from the beginning) and a simple dress shirt. He knew that Damian didn’t like wearing what he’d once called “old man shoes” when he was younger, so he took a pair of his cleaner sneakers (they were all rather dirty). He turned to the younger with a smile on his lips, only getting a scowl back however.

“So, now that we have that prepared, we’ll get to the makeup,” He held out his arm as a fine gentleman would for someone to grab ahold to, but Damian sloppily rolled his eyes again and walked over to his bathroom, completely ignoring Dick. Dick hadn’t expected the younger to accept his request, but he’d at least wanted a “Dick, stop being ridiculous". He didn’t seem to be in the mood however, so Dick followed him after having laid out the clothes on his bed.

Damian was already sitting on one of the counters when Dick walked in. While he did have a place for his makeup to be fixed, the times he sat there was only for special occasions. Meeting famed actress Selina Kyle was apparently not one of those occasions, as they were not supposed to be out for the paparazzi. It was rather uncommon for Damian to feel any occasion to be special enough for him to get professionals to help with his makeup. Not that Dick didn’t know what he was doing, he’d done Damian’s and numerous others’ makeup for years, but his profession was not makeup artist. He was however the one who cooperated the best with Damian, and one of the few who got to touch his face.

Even if Damian already had flawless skin complexion with no pimples or blackheads, he still wanted to make sure he looked good. Years in the spotlight had made him well aware of how he looked, especially when most people only cared about how he looked. He didn’t have the confidence any longer to walk outside without having any sort of makeup on his face. There was pressure on him to look perfect in every view, and makeup was what could fix those faults. Even if people thought that makeup only was for girls, anyone who actually knew what was going on knew very well that guys also used makeup.

“Make sure you’ll behave, little guy,” Dick said quietly as he started to apply the concealer on Damian’s face, despite him not actually needing it. “Bruce won’t be happy if you make any snide remarks towards Selina. She is a well respected actress and has worked hard to get where she is today. If she doesn’t do anything that truly hurts you, shut your mouth if the only thing that’s going to come out is absolute shit.”

Damian snorted, rolling his eyes for the third time. “Father can’t stop me. The sheer embarrassment of having to tell off a twenty year old will be too much. I am aware of what I should and should not do in a social situation. I have read up on such subjects.”

“The fact that you have to read up on how to socialize with people is rather depressing,” Dick said, moving the brush against Damian’s face in a quick but soft manor. “Jason has been kind of enough to let you hang around his friends, and while they may not be the best influence on you, I barely think they affect you in any sort of way. Or well hopefully, Bruce wouldn’t be too happy if you suddenly started to smoke,” he scrunched up his nose a little, leaning back to check out the younger’s face. He shrugged, happy with the result and put down the brush.

“Jason has stopped smoking, or so he states, don’t precisely know the truth in his statement,” Damian mumbled lowly, eyeing Dick who was uncapping an eyebrow pencil. “But I prefer to be alone and not in the company of anyone else. Jason and his associates are not in any of my interest, or well, at least not his associates. They seem far more barbaric than what he does. Something I actually speculated based on the information that Jason had given me as a warning in beforehand. Ex-drug users were in his ‘crowd’”.

Dick hummed lowly, not really intent on talking about Jason and his friends. He already knew about them, after all, he’d been living in the same foster care as Jason had when they were younger. “Well he is a better man now,” he said distantly as he leaned forward to fill in Damian’s eyebrows to make them look sharper.

A silence fell over the two, neither of them feeling the need in saying anything to the other. Dick was concentrating on applying the makeup while Damian had to be a still canvas. He only applied some concealer, the slightest of rouge on his cheeks and filled in his eyebrows. There wasn’t any need to actually apply too much makeup, and guys were usually not the ones who’d wear makeup. Although that had never stopped Damian.

After a good few minutes of Dick wanting to fill out some spaces on Damian’s skin, and he was done. He gave it a good look from different views and lights, before he smiled brightly and did a thumbs up. “It’s all good. Hopefully it won’t be another Poison Ivy situation, remember that?” Damian gave him an unamused look, clearly not finding her major makeup fail as fun as he did. Maybe it was because Dick had once known the makeup artist that had fixed Poison Ivy’s makeup that night, and all he could do was laugh at the mishap.

“Lemme do your hair, remain there,” Dick said and walked over to where Damian stored his hair products. “Do you want it slicked backwards, in a mohawk, or…?” he turned back around with hairspray and hair gel in his hands, weighing the two as to show them for the younger.

“Preferably the usual,” Damian answered, Dick nodding at his request. He put the hair gel back, walking back over to Damian. It didn’t take too long for him to get Damian’s hair to stand up in the usual way, Dick had gone through it multiple times, and he shooed the young man over to his room to put on his clothes while he himself cleaned up the bathroom.

Damian shot a glance over to his clock hanging on the wall. He had about ten minutes to get ready, and so he quickly but neatly got dressed in the black suit. Suits had never been his thing, but Bruce had forced him to wear them at a very early age. It didn’t necessarily bother him, at least he didn’t have to go through the troubles that women had with their dresses. A suit was much easier to put on, and get out of. Or at least he thought so, it’s not like he’d tried one on himself.

“Ready?” Dick asked as he appeared behind Damian in the mirror, putting his hands on the smaller of the two’s shoulders.

He only scoffed however, pulling a little on his tie. “Of course, all these preparations and you’d come to believe that I was,” he shrugged Dick’s grip off of him, spinning around to look up into his deep blue eyes. He was only smiling at Damian however, just like he always did. He was acting like a proud mother, just a thing that Dick always seemed to be doing. Or maybe he was just proud of Damian, and that he felt like his caretaker acted more like a mother figure than what his actual mother had done.

Dick escorted Damian to the hallway where Bruce was speaking to their oldest butler, Alfred. The two turned around as they heard footsteps approaching them, and a small yet gentle smile appeared on Alfred’s lips. While Damian didn’t have the looks of his father, he sure did have the appeal and aura of him. He was almost shining business.

“Thank you, Richard,” Bruce said sternly as the two men got to the hallway. “Your help will always be appreciated.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Dick said and bowed down his head in respect. “Now, Damian, even if I am aware of you not being twelve any longer, I still feel the need to tell you to behave respectfully. I do know that you have certainly gotten significantly better at controlling whatever may come out of your mouth, but even if you dislike a person you do not have the right to insult them. Okay?” he was speaking to the twenty year old as if he was ten again, and naturally, Damian scoffed as a reply. That didn’t seem to fit well with Bruce however as a deep frown formed on his face.

Damian, who did need feel the need for another scolding nor apologizing, spun on his heel and went past Alfred, out of the door. Their assigned car was standing outside, their driver by the backseat doors. She seemed rather taken aback as Damian angrily stepped out on the porch, descending down the stone stairs. She was quick to open the door for the young man however, who without hesitation jumped in and pulled harshly at the door, closing it with a loud thud.

Inside the car it was silent. There were muffled voices outside, but Damian didn’t want to care. Of course that he did, Bruce was most likely mad at him for his impolite behavior, but his small rude actions or random outbursts were never something Bruce actually confronted him about. He’d just tell him to stop and expect Damian to do so. He didn’t know why Damian did as he did, and he certainly didn’t seem to care.

Things like that is what drove Damian insane. Bruce never asked him how he was or why he got so angry over the smallest of things. All he did was scold him and ignore him, then leave it at that. Sure that he was twenty and should have learnt by now, but he had so much pent up anger inside of him that he didn’t know what to do with it. Sometimes drawing just didn’t help and he just had to lash out at someone, that someone usually being Bruce who had a way of pressing his buttons.

Bruce was never meant to be a father, that much had Damian concluded. Or at least he was an awful father towards Damian. Maybe if he’d not only had the perfect features but also the perfect personality, maybe then would he have been accepted. They got into regular brawls with each other, and Damian was just waiting for the day when Bruce was to give the company and his inheritance to his assistant Tim instead. The only thing that Bruce probably kept Damian for was his looks and smarts. Without his looks he wouldn’t be so loved by the media, and without his smarts he wouldn’t be able to carry the Wayne Enterprises by his father’s side.

The door next to him violently swung up, and without looking at him, Damian could feel his father’s presence lingering by him. “That was highly disrespectful of you, Damian,” Bruce’s dark and brooding voice said, almost sending a chill down his son’s spine. “I would like you to personally and formally apologize to Richard right at this instance,” he pulled at Damian’s arm to get him out if the car, but the younger fought back, pulling arm back with a violent force.

Bruce seemed a little taken aback by his son’s strong resistance, but his frown deepened even further and without any sort of remorse, he grabbed Damian by the collar of his shirt, pulling the upper half of his body out of the car. “You need to stay respectful towards the people working here, or they won’t respect you. Now, go apologize to Richard.”

Damian pulled away from his father but stepped out if the car, biting his bottom lip to prevent any insults to be thrown from with mouth. Dick was standing on the stairs, hand placed on his chest and worry sprawled over his face. It was evident that he didn’t give a damn about any apology, especially not when he knew exactly how Damian worked, but as Damian passed by him on the stairs the slightest tingle of hurt crossed his face. Bruce started to yell at the boy to get back and apologize to all of them, but Damian wasn’t listening. He didn’t want to listen, he couldn’t listen.

Alfred seemed to want to touch him as he walked by, but slowly retreated his hand as saw the bitter look on the boy’s face. He had the right to be angry, there was no law saying he wasn’t allowed to, and Alfred wasn’t going to stop the only part of Damian that labelled him human - his emotions. There wasn’t a lot of positivity in him, but there was something left in him unlike in his father, who long ago had gone absolutely stone cold.

His lip was bleeding. Damian didn’t stop biting in it however. It was preventing him from crying. He wasn’t going to cry, he hadn’t done that in forever. It wasn’t his thing to cry, he’d much rather lash out on people in absolute madness. Sure that it wasn’t an acceptable method of pouring your emotions out of you, but Damian didn’t work like a normal person did, it had been a long time since.

So locking himself up in his room was the only viable solution to him. He heard someone outside of his room, presumably Dick who was trying to convince him to come out and talk to him, but Damian was having none of it.

The suit he was wearing was choking him, and so he almost tore off his tie and threw his blazer off him. He pretty much ripped the buttons of his shirt open and tossed it to the side, stopping in his movements. His chest was heaving, and what for didn’t he know. Bruce’s outbursts never affected him that bad, he never felt the need to breathe after having been in an argument with him. He never felt so desperate to be alive.

He stripped down to only his underwear, quickly putting on one of those oversized hoodies that Dick had forced him to purchase. Having blocked out the sounds of whoever was by the door, Damian huddled up in his bed. He pulled the covers around his small figure and leaned against the headboard, numbers quietly falling off his bruised lips.

Damian was breaking, piece by piece. He wasn’t on his breaking point yet, but he knew very well that it was soon to come, and hell if he wasn’t in the slightest scared of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be nice if you have anything to say, I get anxiety from just posting these things haha


	3. Jonathan Kent, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle (Without The Turtle Part)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to sleep but let's go.
> 
> I have started school again and it sucks so bad because that means homework and less writing. I will try to update but the reason as to why this update is rather late is because of school and the anxiety that comes with it.
> 
> Also there's a lot of things going on in this chapter that will bring the story forward, so a lot of things that may seem random will make sense later (most of the things). I also have some random moments just because we people do as well
> 
> My mom started reading this so hi mom lmao but this is not even proof read by me because sLEEP and I noticed some errors in chapter 2 so get ready for more here.
> 
> Enjoy my shitty mess~

The night was warm, and Jon sat on top of a roof, looking down at the dark streets below him. There were a few people walking up and down the streets, numerous of whom he’d seen recurrently. Some people had spotted him on the roof, and he even jumped down once to tell a guy to stop throwing stones at him, even if they weren’t even close in reaching him. Most of the people who noticed him snapped a photo of him, apparently finding it very exciting in seeing Superboy. It wasn’t, at least not for Superboy himself.

It was almost as if he was a celebrity, someone people sought after all the time. He knew that if he decided to just reveal his true identity to the public he’d become a celebrity over night, but he wasn’t going to risk that. It would not only put himself in danger, but also his mother. Lois didn’t possess superpowers, she could easily die from a bullet to the head, Jon wouldn’t. If it wasn’t for safety measures he’d probably revealed who he was long ago.

While Clark had gotten imprisoned for what he was fighting for, they had kept his identity a secret. They probably knew that Jon was his son, but he was keeping the streets clean, something that the government didn’t seem to have anything against. It still bothered Jon that once someone went up against them, the government did everything in their power to stop whoever was opposing them. Hence why Clark had been taken and not Jon, or at least that was his theory.

“Wasting your time up on the rooftop?” a voice called out behind Jon, who was quick to whip around, eyes glowing red. He was quick to notice that it was the vigilante (could he even call him that) that he’d met yesterday who was approaching him with soft steps, but yet the red in his eyes didn’t reside.

“What are you doing here?” Jon asked sharply, glaring at the other. The vigilante didn’t answer however, only kept on walking towards him, stopping right on the edge of the roof and plopping down next to Jon. The sound of the swords hitting the concrete made Jon wince in the slightest, but it didn’t seem to faze the other. No surprise there, they were his swords after all and he did seemed to have possessed them for quite some time.

The vigilante sighed heavily, looking down to the ground. He didn’t seem to seek out any sort of harm, so Jon let his guard drop, his usual blue eyes returning. “So, what are you doing all the way over here in Metropolis?” he tried to act casual, failing to do so as he heard the slight quiver in his voice. It’s not like he was scared of the guy, Jon’s superpowers would prevent the guy from downright murdering him, but there was this aura to him that made him appear rather haunting.

“Care to elaborate further?” the vigilante asked, raising on one of his eyebrows. He was, presumably, looking at Jon. He couldn’t see the other’s eyes which were covered by a green mask, or well the eyes seemed to be covered with those white things that probably enabled him to look through the mask. Jon wasn’t really up on what happened in the world, but he knew that there were a lot of more futuristic things in Gotham. Not that this guy was from Gotham, or well he could be, but there was no direct evidence. Except for his way of speaking, although Jon was generalizing that everyone in Gotham spoke as if they were a king.

The teen shrugged over the other’s question, not really know what to say. He was generalizing, he knew that, but there was no way that this boy- man- whatever, was from Metropolis. Jon would have met him long ago if so, and he did seem to be around his own age. Maybe he was homeschooled, but that would be a rather slim possibility. Someone getting decent homeschooling in Metropolis would be a wonder - the city was absolute shit. Or at least according to Jon, he preferred the other cities over his own for multiple reasons.

“What’s your name? So I can call you something,” Jon said, turning on his head to look out at the streets down below him again. “It feels rather awkward if I’m just going to call you ‘dude’ or ‘you’,” he ran his fingers through his bangs, letting them fall back softly over his eyes again.

“I do not go by any alias,” the other said, too turning back to look out on the streets. “Call me whatever you’d find the most fitting. Although I would appreciate it if you did not call me any sort of pet names, such things are ridiculous and childish,” he lifted his head up in the air a little, probably as to seem more fancy that what he probably was. He did manage to look more snobby, but also more like an asshole.

Jon hummed, leaning away a little from the boy as he eyed him. It wasn’t easy to come up with a superhero name, or well for Jon it was, his father was Superman and he was pretty much Superman’s replica (with a little more superpowers) so the name Superboy fell naturally in his hands. But just coming up with a random name on the spot - a whole different story.

“Well I do think you look like you could be named Robin,” Jon said hesitantly, slowly raising on his eyebrows. “So I’m going to call you Robin, I think it fits you. Yup, you are now officially known as Robin in my books,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. The vigilante, or Robin, turned to him with a smirk on his lips. While it didn’t seem to be his real name, he didn’t seem to repose the name either, which was a good sign to Jon.

He didn’t know how many times they’d come to meet each other in the future. Yesterday had been the first time they’d met - as far as Jon knew - and already he felt at peace with Robin. Even if he was ruthless in his way of eliminating his targets, when there was no criminals in sight he seemed calmer. He had seemed calm back in the alley as well, especially for someone who’d just murdered and beaten up a group of men single handedly, but he’d been just as much on the edge as Jon was. At least that’s what his heartbeat was saying. It had been beating rapidly, and as he hadn’t seem to be out of breath the only logical explanation that Jon could come up with was nerves. Robin could have some heart disease, but he probably wouldn’t be out fighting criminals that way if he had.

When Jon turned to his right he saw that Robin was gone, the scent of jasmine lingering like a looming shadow. The teen was quick up on his feet, listening for a sign that could lead him to where Robin had gone. How did he manage to leave so quietly? Jon noticed the smallest of sounds around him, especially if they didn’t fit in with the other surrounding ones. Then again, his thoughts had been mangled up in his brain, somewhere entirely else than Metropolis.

Jon leaned over the edge of the roof and fell, letting the wind take control over his body. He was quick to regain control over his body however, stopping right mid fall, hood draped over his head. There were voices, loud and pained ones coming from a little further away, voices that usually indicated some sort of violence was taking place.

The teen was quick to fly over to wherever he’d heard the violence coming from, suspicions already raising in his mind. His biggest guess was that Robin had already made his way over to the violence, head probably not being over rumbled with thoughts too loud to ignore. Or maybe he had a sort of animals instinct, he could feel it in his bones whenever crime was happening. Although that was probably a little too far, but seeing how unnatural the boy was, it wouldn’t surprise Jon at all.

The scene was not as gruesome as Jon had suspected it to be. Robin was pushing a man against a boutique’s wall, a small knife in his hands. Without his super hearing, Jon wouldn’t have heard the details that went into Robin’s threats, and he wished he hadn’t either. There was no need for him to hear how the other was threatening with cutting out the man’s eyeballs, then shove them down his throat and make him throw up. It did seem to have a grave effect on the man however, as quickly as Robin had let him go he ran in the opposite direction of where Jon was standing on the street.

“Wasn’t that a little overboard?” he asked as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, raising his eyebrows in a demanding manor as a way of provocative the youngster a few meters away from him.

Robin sighed, ignoring whatever Jon was saying and walked over to the nearby trash cans lining up against the purple walls, bowing down. “Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, moving one of the trash cans aside. “How about you come out from this stinky place? You don’t want to smell bad, do you?” Jon’s eyes widened as he saw a little girl stepping out from her presumed hiding place, tears rolling down her cheeks. She seemed to take trust in Robin, immediately wrapping her arms around the older’s neck, thanking “the weird hero".

Jon smiled warmly as he saw Robin carefully wrapping his own arms around her fragile little stature, either because he didn’t want to scare her or because he didn’t know how to hug people. He did seem rather uncomfortable, and his rapid heartbeat was speaking for that as well, but nonetheless he was pushing himself through the awkwardness. Of course, the little girl didn’t seem to mind as she buried her face in the hoodie of his cape.

Not wanting to downright terrify the young girl, Jon lifted from the ground in the slightest and flew over to where the pair were, settling down softly on the ground as he landed beside Robin. “Hey,” he said, getting Robin to softly peel the girl away from him and turn to look up at the towering male. “I was thinking I could help her home, my flying abilities will come in handy for such a thing.”

Robin seemed to scowl and turned back to the girl, who looked like she had seen a ghost. She looked both terrified and mesmerized at the same time, which Jon certainly didn’t understand. There’s no way he was that haunting, sure that he was rather big and especially for a little girl like her, but he didn’t think he looked that scary. He’d been described more accurately as a huggable bear.

“You can fly?” she asked excitedly, pulling a little at Robin’s arm as she was holding onto one of his thin, gloved hands.

Jon was a little taken aback by her sudden change of moods, but judging over the fact that she looked to be around six, he couldn’t blame her. “Yes, I can,” he said kindly and leaned down a little so he could look her easier in the eye. “If you could be so kind to tell your address we’d love to help you get home safe and sound. It’s not safe to be out this late at night all by your own, sweetheart, you should know that,” his voice got a little more stern, wanting the girl to realize what he was trying to tell her.

Her face expression changed a little, sadness and guilt taking over. “Mommy and daddy were fighting, and I wanted to bring them something home. But that man suddenly attacked me and- and,” her throat closed up, tears welling over again.

Jon felt guilty, not wanting to make her even more upset. She seemed to calm down however as Robin’s soothing voice tried to comfort her, all the while rubbing his hands slowly up and down her arms. There was something in him that apparently made her trust him, and Jon couldn’t help but to smile a little as the small but meaningful words fell from Robin’s lips. They seemed so thought through, like he’d spoken such words before, like it fell in his natural habit.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. How by each word that left Robin’s perfectly shaped lips (one of the most alluring features of him, alongside his snub nose, diamond shaped jaw, arched and almost ridiculously perfect eyebrows- pretty much everything on him, Jon realized) seemed to hold such weight in the girl that she couldn’t do any other than hold onto his hands and just listen. It was truly magical, but when Robin suddenly turned on his head in Jon’s direction the teen felt his face flush immediately.

Robin didn’t seem to notice it however, or simply decided to ignore it. “Is there any problem for you to fly this girl over the city so she can spot her house, and eventually get back home safely?”

Jon, still in a somewhat trance, shook his head to wake himself up but was quick to answer. “Of course, I just hope she’ll be willing to cooperate. Will you?” he turned to look at the young girl, who glanced over to Robin before nodding shyly. “Hop on,” he turned around and bowed down, the girl climbing onto his back. He got up again, put his hands under her thighs and turned around to face Robin, who’d stood up as well.

“I won’t go anywhere during the time that you are absent, unless I spot any sort of crime being committed,” Robin said and corrected his cape a little. “I cannot turn a blind eye to what is happening here after all.”

Jon nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line. He didn’t really want to leave Robin. Something in the back of his mind told him to stay with the other, that if he went Robin could be gravely hurt. He knew that Robin could probably make it on his own, he’d been able to fend off a whole group of men and the little girl hadn’t probably gone too far away from her house anyways. But still, Jon’s job was to protect people, and if he couldn’t protect Robin he’d failed his job. He’d fail the one thing he was set to do.

“I do not need protection, Superboy,” Robin’s sharp voice cut his thoughts. “This city may be dangerous, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it. Despite, that girl needs to get home, right?” his voice was teasing, but with an underline of seriousness in it as well. Sure that Jon knew he’d probably be able to make it on his own, but of course there was something going against what he was telling himself.

He sighed nonetheless, nodding deafetly. “I’ll be back,” he said cautiously, shooting up into the sky so he and the girl could get a clear view over the city. “In what direction do you live, little girl?”

“There!” she pointed over his right shoulder, right into a very poor district. Jon flew over to where he was told to go, and with a few complications, the girl finally succeeded in pointing out where her house was. It wasn’t totally easy, even if he didn’t fly too fast and could hear her perfectly thanks to his super hearing, she seemed to get lost time and time again. In the end, Jon decided to fly down instead to dawn the streets and after a few minutes, she was by her house again. Her parents cried of joy when they saw her and thanked Jon endlessly, who said it was no problem and simply his job before he shot up into the sky again.

Robin wasn’t too hard to spot. The red, green and yellow colors were standing out massively against the grey colors around him, and the light from the lamppost next to him was shining on the blades of his swords. He looked surprisingly casual, as if there was nothing strange about him. Just another teenage boy standing on the street, waiting for his friends to meet him up. Jon didn’t actually know if Robin was a tennager or not, but he made an assumption that he was around his own age.

As Jon landed softly on the ground next to Robin he spoke up. “So, what are we gonna do now?” he tilted a little on his head, leaning against the lamppost next to him.

Robin looked up at him, an unreadable face expression set on his face. Jon couldn’t see his eyes, that part being covered by that damn green mask, but the way his jaw was set and his lips were turned slightly downwards, he too seemed to be bothered and strained. He couldn’t tell however, he’d only known Robin for a day, and they hadn’t interacted with each other as normal people. It pissed off Jon a little, because even if he didn’t know a single thing about the other, he was set on solving the mystery boy.

Turning away from him, Robin seemed to think, small shoulders falling slightly. “So you view the two of us as a team, if I’m not mistaken,” he turned back around again, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Jon tilted his head downwards a little, half to seem more intimidating, half teasing Robin for his height. “Maybe, maybe not. You and I seem to share the same goal after all, only that we have two different ways of achieving it. Besides, I think you could be a useful sidekick.”

Robin snorted loudly, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I am not a sidekick, Superboy,” he stated rather venomously, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I won’t decline your business offer to work by your side. I have heard many stories of your triumphs around the city, and I do know for a fact that you possess a hand full of powers, some of which I have witnessed myself.”

“So, is that a yes?” Jon asked, raising on his eyebrows.

“Yes.”

Jon cheered lightly, earning an eyebrow raised back at him. Robin seemed to question his excitement, not finding a simple team up to be worth of any form of celebration. Jon didn’t know the exact reason as to why he found that to be such an exciting thing either. He didn’t know Robin, the whole ordeal should scare him, he’d never been particularly good at socializing with people. So maybe that’s why it felt like a victory for him. Robin was someone who didn’t know Jon at all, but still wanted to work by his side. It was only for practical use, but if he’d been bad in any sort of way, Robin would probably not have worked with him.

He’d always wanted to work with someone, at least ever since his father had been imprisoned, forcing Jon to work alone. While it was nice that you didn’t have anyone in the way, it would eventually evolve into loneliness. From what Jon knew, there was no one else who wanted to help clear the streets in Metropolis, and while he hadn’t actively searched for someone he sorta expected someone to help if they could. That’s when Robin popped up out of nowhere, and after knowing each other for the least amount of time Jon had pretty much known anyone, they were friends.

“Um, just one question,” Jon said, Robin tilting his head a little to the side. Cute. “How often are you here? Or are we just going to work whenever we accidentally stumble upon each other? Since we don’t know each other’s identities we can’t really contact each other.”

Robin frowned, the easiness of the whole situation suddenly wiped away. It seemed as if that he hadn’t thought of that either, which wasn’t too surprising, Jon’s statement had come a little out of the blue. While he hadn’t necessarily viewed it as an invitation to be on a team, there was something in the back of his mind that wanted to be with Robin. The guy sure as hell was attractive, but there was also this alluring thing about him that Jon couldn’t point out.

“I’ll find a way to find you,” Robin said, pulling out a grappling hook from his belt. “I found you the first and second time,” he shot with the hook, latching onto the building to his right. “I think I can manage a few more,” with that, he dramatically spun around - which made his cape twirl slightly around his delicate body in a dazzling way - and shot up into the air. Jon’s blue eyes followed him, the way he flipped over the edge of the roof thanks to the force and speed, the way that he landed so effortlessly - Jon was a little more than just amazed. Robin was truly magical in every sense of way.

He wasn’t going to be the worse of the two however, and was quick to follow the other. As some fucking ninja, Robin was going from building to building with his grappling hooks, and while Jon didn’t necessarily like that they were leaving marks - essentially damaging the buildings - he couldn’t necessarily do anything about it. It seemed to be Robin’s only way of transportation, and as long as he wasn’t causing any trouble with it, Jon had to stay cool. As cool as he possibly could when Robin was practically making up his own doomsday by swinging like that.

The rest of the night, which was about an hour and a half, was spent preventing smaller crimes from happening. The big guys didn’t seem to be interested in going out, and the worst harm made was Robin kicking Jon in the face. No harm was done however as Jon’s invulnerability prevented him for enduring any harm, but it did make him fly backwards a little and Robin to curse loudly. Jon had no idea how it happened, but Robin hadn’t seemed too apologetic.

That was one of the things that ticked Jon off a little about Robin; he never seemed apologetic for anything he did. Without any problem could he nearly decapitate someone and having close to no remorse for it either. It almost seemed inhuman to Jon, and it made him doubt the other. For all he knew, Robin could be posing as a non-lethal threat and working for the government. It could be a part of their scheme, get someone to gain Superboy’s trust and get close him. Then, in an epic - but foremost asshole way - he’d capture him and do the same to Superboy as they did to Superman.

Jon hadn’t thought about that. He’d taken Robin’s word for it, that he was indeed a trustworthy ally and someone he could rely on. There were multiple factors saying that he was nice, like the way he wanted to beat criminals, but also so many that pointed in the other direction. He was hostile, rude, had no mercy and seemed to be incapable of true emotions. There was more of a robot vibe to him than anything else.

“Something seems to be bothering you, Superboy,” Robin spoke to him, and Jon looked up from his shoes. The night was rounding up and the two were walking on the streets, as a sort of patrol. Robin had stated that he wanted to clear the grounds around first, and that for some unspeakable reason he couldn’t use his grappling hooks (Jon guessed it was because of his arms hurting from all that flinging, he’s not sure if even he himself would make it). Jon had offered to fly him, but that seemed to be too much of an embarrassing moment to go through for Robin and so they’d resided on walking.

A sigh left Jon’s lips, and he put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Nothing, at least nothing important,” it seemed as if Robin didn’t believe him, but he seemed to find it unnecessary to push as well. Since they weren’t friends there was no need to continue on with the conversation, at least not according to Jon. He didn’t know what morals Robin had, but he didn’t seem like a type of feelings guy.

It fell silent between the two. It was awkward and Jon really wished that he had something to say. There were essentially a lot of things he could talk about, like his interests or politics, but it was like his brain was blank. There was nothing on his mind, other than that he should really stop brushing his hand against Robin’s because it is totally embarrassing him and making him blush. Robin didn’t seem to mind but Jon really did, and for each little contact between the two Jon sunk further through the ground.

He never reacted like that to anyone else being close to him, and especially not strangers. Robin seemed to be a unique stranger, a very beautiful and intriguing one. Jon wouldn’t have resisted if Robin had kissed him, unless he tasted awful because who wants to kiss someone who tastes like shit. Jon didn’t like to believe that Robin did though. Not that he thought of kissing Robin, why would that thought even cross his mind, he was just a craving. Like food, natural.

“Something is on your mind,” Robin stated again, and Jon looked down at the shorter, who was keeping his gaze forward. “You can’t patrol if your mind is somewhere that is not your surroundings. So either clear your head, or speak to me about it. One of my friends have always told me even if the one you tell may not listen, it always feels better to get it off your chest.”

“That’s why you suck at social interactions?” Jon grinned down at Robin, who hastily looked up at him with a frown on his face. The slightest of pink must have covered Jon’s face as he felt it heat up, not only because of the close proximity between them, but also because Robin’s face was one of the most perfect ones Jon had ever seen. Beautiful but with face expressions so ugly, harsh but yet so gentle, nothing but also everything.

“I may lack social skills, but what I lack in social skills I make up for in other skills,” he flipped his cape a little, something he seemed to do rather often. It looked good when he did however so Jon wasn’t going to ask him to stop. He liked to see the way Robin’s arm so delicately moved and how his rather thin - but still built - body would bend backwards in the slightest. Jon couldn’t help but to imagine what other situation he’d bend in, but as his thoughts travelled south he immediately had to think of something else.

Robin certainly wasn’t a good topic to think of, even if he looked incredibly good. He wasn’t only appealing however, but there was this something about his personality that seemed to draw Jon closer towards him. People like him usually got a blind eye turned on by Jon, and maybe it was because he was so damn striking, but Jon actually liked Robin. He genuinely liked someone that he barely knew, which was news to Jon, he didn’t connect with people all too well.

“We’ll see about-" Jon stopped in his tracks, an uneasy feeling suddenly residing in him. Robin stopped as well, turning around to look at the other.

“What is-" Robin’s sentence was cut off as Jon swooped up behind him, putting his hand over his mouth. Robin didn’t seem to be too happy about it, struggling a little against Jon’s grip on his arm. The movements earned him a harsh kick to his spine - and Jon had to say Robin’s flexibility was far more impressive than what he’d first assumed - which got him to stop moving at least.

“Don’t talk,” Jon leaned down to whisper in Robin’s ear before letting him go carefully. The shorter was quick to whip around as Jon let him go, not daring to look him in the eye but instead going for the surroundings. If Jon really wanted to press the issue he would have said he’d seen the slightest of blush covering Robin’s cheeks, but his wild imagination was probably getting the best of him.

A good distance away Jon was sure he heard some people talk about a kidnapping, or precisely to kidnap someone. He wasn’t sure who they were - he may possess super hearing but that didn’t mean he’d be able to recognize voices - but he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone kidnap someone.

So, with what have could be considered a rude action, Jon lifted from the ground and up into the air. He heard Robin quietly calling on him from the ground, asking him not so nicely to “get the fuck down from there, Superboy”. Robin had a way of saying Jon’s superhero alias in a way that made it seem so venomous and distasteful. It was almost as if it was to be spat on. No one was supposed to say Superboy in a happy manner, his name was a shame.

Which is exactly as to why Jon decided to ignore Robin. He followed the sound from where he believed it originated from, which was only a block away. His super hearing never ceased to amaze him, or his kryptonian powers in general. The powers he possessed was one of the most confusing things ever, and without his father by his side, it had been hard to learn them. It had taken its time, but by now Jon would say he was at least average on handling them. How you now could be average at handling your powers, he didn’t really know. All he knew was that he wasn’t bad but not good either, landing him in the mediocre area.

A group of five men were standing on the street, looking particularly shady. Looking particularly shady had no meaning in Jon’s life however as pretty much anything he saw could be considered shady. But five men, standing on the street with five identical coats and hats wasn’t anything that happened everyday. At least not in Jon’s world.

“Think they’ll arrive soon?” one of the men questioned, voice raw and scratchy, possibly using some sort of voice changer.

Another one of the men rolled up his coat sleeve, checking out the watch on his wrist. “In about a minute or so,” the same voice replied, Jon’s theory possibly being confirmed. No way that two people would have the exact same voice.

The men fell back into silence, Jon watching over them like a haunting figure where he stood on top of a roof. They didn’t notice him however, thankfully, and never seemed to think of also looking above them and not only beside them. One of them did look up once but thanks to Jon’s superspeed he went unnoticed, and after that no one of them looked up again.

As Jon felt his time ticking away - even if it only went a minute or two - a car suddenly rolled up on the road. It looked ordinary enough, a little rusty at some parts but nothing about it that immediately screamed danger. That is until the passenger door opened up, and a woman stumbled out of the car, falling face first onto the street. She’d been visibly crying and seemed to be on the verge of doing it again, but kept it inside, possibly as not to upset the men.

The car door shut and as fast as the car had appeared did it disappear, racing off down the street. The woman lying on the street looked completely terrified and as one of the men walked up to her a low whimper left her lips. The man who’d spoken up first grabbed ahold of her wrist, jerking her upwards.

That exact moment was also what got Jon to decide to intertwine with the conflict, jumping down from the roof and slamming down into the ground, leaving a few cracks in the sidewalk (he’d help repair that later). The men simultaneously whipped around, coats swassing around.

“Well hello,” Jon said quietly, a devilish smirk appearing on his lips. “What may the conflict be today?”

“You,” one of the men answered, quick to draw a gun from his coat. He didn’t get to fire it however, as it was knocked out of his hand with something, surprising not only himself but Jon as well. But as quick as the man suddenly was kicked in the face, Jon understood exactly what had happened.

“How dare you,” Robin said and looked up at Jon. “You know very well I like brawls,” with that he turned around and kicked another one of the guys in the face, drawing his swords as well. Jon would be lying to himself if he didn’t think that was totally awesome and somewhat hot to see. He wasn’t going to be less than Robin though as he too started fighting, only with less kicks and more punches.

Fighting always felt like a dance to Jon. While he wasn’t as gracious as Robin was, who was kicking and spinning and making it look like a dance, it was always the same. Punch someone in the face, carefully as not to make them fly into a building, dodge an attack flung against him and punch again. It had become more a routine than anything and Jon knew the basic moves the men pulled at him. The bullets shot at him lodged off his steel-like skin, accidentally jumping off onto one of the other men and hitting him in the leg.

His impenetrable skin was never something Jon was proud of. While he wouldn’t get hurt by physical attacks or penetrable objects, the people around him didn’t possess his invulnerability. People who weren’t wielding any sort weapon, especially guns, were Jon’s type to fight against. Then he wouldn’t have to deflect the bullets shot at him and didn’t have to worry about the civilians as much.

Someone getting stabbed was probably something Jon would have to get even more used to. The sound of a sword slicing into someone’s skin disgusted him, how he heard the wheeze coming out of the man as he drew his last breath. Such sounds were what would haunt Jon in his sleep, the sounds of death. Even after years of hearing them he still wasn’t used to it. They would keep on ringing in his ears, as if they were calling out on him to remember what horrible things he was committing. On how he was a murderer.

“Superboy,” a warm surface hit his cheek. “Superboy,” the blurry figure was talking to him, calling out his name in a harsh but caring way. Whatever was touching him was rubbing circles on his cheek, and slapping him lightly, though that didn’t hurt. Of course it didn’t, physical attacks never hurt him, even if the slapping wasn’t necessarily an attack, it was a physical blow to his face.

“What am I doing,” Jon slurred out blinking a few times to clear the view. “The hell,” he rubbed his eyes, then blinked again, Robin now in clear view in front of him. He had a concerned look on his face, and a blood patch right below his left eye, going up on his mask and staining that as well. He reminded him of a warrior, a fierce but short one.

Robin slapped him straight across the face, gloved hand smacking harshly against Jon’s face and sound echoing with it. His face was forced to the left, and as the seconds ticked he saw the view in front of him getting clearer. The men, bloody and bashed on the ground. One man had a gun by his side, another one a cut right over his face. Hats were lying across the street, hats which earlier had been on the mens heads.

“Have you gotten your senses together?” Robin asked, Jon turning back to face him with a sour expression on his face. “You have a red mark on your cheek, by the way.”

“Guess where that came from,” Jon said sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “But if you mean I’m okay, yeah. I don’t really know what happened, I never fall into those sort of hazes where everything just shuts off. It- it was weird but I'm good now. Just not really used to the sound of someone… stabbing another person.”

“That is something you will have to get accustomed to,” Robin said, almost a little distant. “You beat up people regularly but you can’t handle the sound of a blade going through flesh?” he crossed his arms over his chest in his demanding demeanor, Jon nodding sheepishly. “Sadly I have yet to learn to handle any other weapon with such excellence, and katanas are highly effective in cutting through flesh.”

“I already know that, Robin,” Jon said, putting that emphasis on the other’s name in the way that he used to put it on Superboy. “I’m not gonna force you to stop using your weapons. What I would like to force you to stop with is killing people. I don’t like leaving corpses on the streets like that and traumatize the people who see it.”

Robin sighed, and without actually seeing it, Jon guessed he rolled his eyes. “If you now possess super strength and ability to fly, why don’t you move the corpse to a more fitting place?”

“Where am I supposed to put it then!”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know that.”

Jon groaned and tilted his head backwards, looking up at the beautiful night sky. He loved looking at it. The way the stars stood out against the dark sky made it seem so peaceful to him. Space was a wonderful thing with it’s dark mysteries that made people so attracted to it. How a void could be something so interesting to humans never ceased to amaze Jon. One day he’d make sure that he’d fly into space, just like his father had. He didn’t have the confidence to do so yet but one day when he did, he was gonna go up there.

“Stop spacing off,” Robin warned him and slapped him on his chest, a small chuckle escaping past Jon’s lips at the unintentional pun. “I propose we proceed with the night’s work. Or have you fallen under the spell of the Sandman, possibly?”

“Probably,” Jon said and yawned loudly before he turned to look down at Robin again. “I think I’ll make my way home actually. Tonight has been rather effective with you by my side, so I can’t say I am disappointed. You make a great sidekick, sidekick!” he clicked his tongue and winked at him as if he was some old school superhero. Robin snarled at him however and pulled up his hood over his head, shielding the majority of his face with a shadow.

“Then let the night consume the both of us,” he said and took out his grappling hook. “Don't you dare follow me, your actions will have grave consequences if so.”

“Scary,” Jon said ironically. “Uh, before you swoosh away or whatever I just want to ask - why is it that I can’t see through your mask to your eyes? My x-ray vision doesn’t seem to work on it because even if I respect your privacy, I still want to see your eyes.”

Robin snorted, something he also seemed to do a lot. “It’s a secret. Although I guess I can reveal that the mask is indeed man made, and not anything you can get your hands on. Specifically designed for me,” and with that, he shot a grappling hook up against the building that Jon previously stood up on. He gave a slightly wave with his hand to Jon before he was gone, the sound of Robin’s cape blowing in the wind echoing in his ears.

A light sigh left Jon’s lips before he descend up in the air, looking down upon the men that he’d previously taken down. He saw a hole in the side of one of the men, blood staining his clothes and the street. It was a sight that was never going to be in the least pretty to Jon, nothing about it that would be satisfying. The fact that he knew other people could stumble upon them horrified him, but then again, where would he take them? To the cemetery and just drop them off? That would seem uncivilized to the workers.

As usual he just left the corpses on the ground. It was actually just one corpse and four lifeless bodies, Jon could still her their hearts beating, fainter now however. It didn’t feel morally correct to leave them there, possibility to their death, but Jon was too tired to care. Robin’s views on criminality must have rubbed off on him in the slightest. It probably wasn’t the best to be on a team with someone who had different views than you on something as serious as vigilantism, but Jon had taken a liking to Robin. He was intriguing and foremost highly skilled in combat, so Jon wouldn’t say no to someone who fought for the same cause as he did.

Even if the two probably would end up clashing heads multiple times, Jon hoped that it wouldn’t be something that would affect their relationship in any sort of way. Communication and trust were after all two of the most important parts of a team's dynamic, both which Robin seemed to lack in. But Jon couldn’t speak for the other, they hadn’t known each other for so long after all and he didn’t like judging people by their first impression. Which is why he wanted to form a team with Robin, to see if he was what Jon believed him to be.

He was hoping to be proved wrong, that Robin wasn’t this cold shell of a person that never would open up to Jon or trust him. Instead he wanted to see if he could bring forth another side of Robin, one that would make him feel less robotic.

Maybe then would Jon also be able to see was what behind that mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jon liking space was just to make a pun
> 
> and maybe foreshadowing sssh


	4. Damian Wayne, Previous Occupation; 4'6 Demon Spawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JASONJASONJASONJASONJASONJASONJASONJASONJASONJASONJASONJASON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaaaah
> 
> I'm getting more and more disappointed in my writing abilities for each thing I write, how fantastic! My mom of all people says I'm a good writer but y'know my psyche hates me. You actually don't know that but pssh
> 
> Chapter with Dami which means no Metropolis although that is bound to change later on as I am actually starting the plot from here, wow! So fuckin amazing am I rite what
> 
> This fic isn't going to be that long so I finally can get to finish something I've written, but it's not like it's going to be over in like 2 chapters. I am the master of fillers.
> 
> Enjoy~

Mornings would never be anything that Damian would appreciate. The way that the sun would creep up on you, casting its unbearable light upon everything it touched. People would be rushing outside, some hurrying to work, other taking it considerably calmer. People of all ages, men and women and whatever between - everyone were rushing to their destination in the chilly but sunny morning.

He found that yoga was a good way of starting his morning. It would smother out his muscles and not make him as stiff. Also a great way of loosening them up from last night’s activities, as usual his arms taking the worst hit. Making his way to and from as well as around a city was straining on his muscles, and eventually he’d have to find a better way. Only that he didn’t know how to drive any sort of vehicle as father had prevented him for doing so, crippling him in a sort of way.

“Good morning, Master Damian,” Alfred greeted the young man as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Have you had a good night’s sleep?” The old man was standing by the stove, flipping a pancake. There were already a few on a plate, so Damian decided to sit down by the small kitchen table in front of the silverware, leaning against the table with his elbows.

“I guess,” Damian answered, prickling a little on the sleeves of his shirt. “Will father join me by the table today?”

Alfred turned around to look at Damian, who was keeping his gaze out to the window to his left. The old man sighed lightly, Damian already full well knowing the response he’d get. He and Bruce hadn’t eaten breakfast together ever since he was a little kid, and while it wasn’t anything he necessarily missed, it could possibly have been one of the few moments he’d get to spend with his father. Now it was always him and Alfred, who didn’t even sit down to eat with him. Damian wasn’t expecting him to, he was their butler after all, but maybe just once.

“Pennyworth,” Damian spoke up, last name of his butler falling off his lips like silk. Alfred turned to look at the young man, whose eyes still were staring out at the nature outside. The way that his small hand was rubbing his neck nervously and how he was bouncing his right leg in that nervous manner - quirks that not only Alfred but a lot of other people long ago had picked up on.

“Yes, Master Damian?” Alfred said as he put the pancake with the others, then pouring the last part of the mix into the pan.

Damian played with the strands of hair at the back of his neck, twirling the short strands around his fingers. He felt Alfred’s eyes in the back of his neck, probably intently watching him in anticipation for what he was to say. “Forget what I said.”

Alfred gave the boy a longing look before he turned back to the cooking. A short while later and he was done with the pancakes, putting them in front of Damian’s plate alongside milk and some sugar. Damian thanked him silently with a nod and Alfred gave him a pat on his cheek before he exited the kitchen, leaving Damian to sit in silence.

He heard how there were other workers around the house, working excessively on their daily tasks. Bruce didn’t have any remorse on them, and Damian had known that ever since he was a child. They were after all working under him so it was their natural duty to serve and please both him and his son. One could argue that Bruce was too hard on his workers, but they were paid greatly by their job, even a little too much.

As Damian continued on eating his pancakes in piece a few people went in and out of the room. Everyone greeted him with a “good morning, did you sleep well, Master Damian?” and a smile. Naturally he had a proper answer, telling them that he did indeed have a good night’s sleep and that it was nice to see them. He acted like a robot more than anything, but so did the workers around him. They didn’t have an emotional connection to him the way that Dick had and so Damian didn’t feel inclined to be personal.

Stephanie Brown, a girl who was a close friend to Tim and therefore had gotten a job at Wayne Enterprises despite being incompetent - according to Damian - strolled into the kitchen. She had close to no boundaries which is why she greeted Damian casually, ruffled around his hair and kissed his cheek. The actions annoyed Damian, he didn’t necessarily like human contact, and so he pushed her away from him.

“Rude little baby,” she said and poked his cheek. “I just wanted a hug from my favorite little baby boy,” she wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a complicated sort of hug, squeezing him against her.

“Can you stop?” Damian growled lowly.

“Sure I can, but I don’t wanna,” she squeezed him impossibly even tighter, getting Damian to uncomfortably move around in her hawk like grip.

“Brown.”

“Is a decent color, yes,” Stephanie giggled, Damian groaning loudly at her awful attempt at a joke. “But okay,” she let him go from her iron grip, Damian moving around his shoulders to loosen them up. “What I originally went in here to do was to inform you that you are supposed to get dressed as you are meeting a very special friend of yours today. Timothy got you a lazy day after he convinced Bruce that you needed some time away from everything. According to Tim it’s because Bruce was visibly pissed and didn’t want you at work today, which is why Dick didn’t wake you up this morning. But I guess you’ve already figured out as much.”

“Who am I to meet?” Damian asked, raising on an eyebrow as he took his glass to drink from.

“That will be a surprise, my dear,” she winked at him which got Damian to roll his eyes. “Come on, you gotta be ready in twenty.”

“Brown-"

“It’s Stephanie for you, baby doll.”

Damian gave her an unimpressed glare as he put his glass down on the table again. “I would appreciate it if you would stop with the names,” he took his plate, cutlery and glass and walked over to the sink to wash them off. “It has taken me years to get used to Dick’s names directed towards me, and I barely even respect those. You and I don’t even have that sort of relationship to begin with.”

“You two doing gay shit or what?” Stephanie teased him as she slowly started to back out of the room.

The young man stopped in his dishing to turn on his head to glare at Stephanie, who was visibly trying to contain her laughter. “No, Brown,” Damian said venomously and lowered his gaze. “Dick is not interested in me or the male gender.”

“So you’re stating that you could be in a relationship with him?”

“Get out.”

“Be outside at half,” with that, Stephanie left the kitchen, laughter roaring after her. She was a special case, a very annoying one in the eyes of Damian. Sometimes she could be really nice and respect what Damian was feeling, like the time she almost stepped on one of his drawings and made it up to him by baking a cake. Other times she was just being downright annoying, wanting nothing but to torment Damian and for him to suffer.

The young man finished the cleaning the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, closing it after him. He shot a look over to the clock, ten past nine, and left the kitchen. Apparently who ever he was meeting was someone special in his life, and there weren’t a lot of people who were special to him. An underlying feeling in him wanted it to be his mother, because despite how he was trying to convince himself that he didn’t need her, he knew it was a lie. Not seeing her after about thirteen years was hard to live with sometimes.

When Damian got to his room it was thankfully empty. A few times had he stumbled inside to see a worker tidying it up, a worker who wasn’t Dick. He’d always be quick to shoo them out of the room to secure that they wouldn’t find anything that was too private. Even if they had good intentions Damian had a hard time trusting people, which is why he doesn’t get why he befriended that stupid-

Damian hoped it wasn’t a high class profile person he’d be meeting, because simply wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt and a black bomber jacket would not amuse too many people. Fashion was never something that had caught Damian’s interest, even if he had modelled for multiple things for numerous of years. Talia’s modelling skills must have gone down to Damian as well, something that photographers were quick to point out.

As the clock struck 09:25, Damian exited his room with earbuds in his ears and phone in his hand. Dick walked past him, said something that Damian didn’t hear nor care about. It was most likely just an hello anyways and unlike a few other workers, Dick wouldn’t be offended if Damian didn’t answer. A few workers had previously complained to Bruce on how Damian was acting like a spoiled brat and not in any way showing them the respect they deserved. Bruce had gone to discipline his son on his ‘awful’ behavior, but Damian hadn’t learned anything from it. He did have more respect for some workers, but mostly because they grew on him.

When Damian got out from the house there was no one there, so he decided to sit down on the stairs with his phone in his hands. A few of his celebrity friends had messaged him, like the up-and-coming actor Jaime Reyes, who despite not being someone Damian usually would ever try to befriend, seemed to get under his skin. While he’d never classify Jaime as one of his friends, he was okay enough to message with.

A few minutes later and Damian was beginning to get pissed. Whoever was going to meet him was late, and Damian was very strict with people being on point and whenever someone wasn’t, they were in for a bad deal. So as Damian was getting ready to go back inside his house a motorcycle passed by, stopping abruptly down by the sidewalk. His heart skipped a little, a motorcycle was always something he’d wanted to drive. But he didn’t know anyone who drove a motorcycle.

“Hello, Demon Spawn,” a dark and near sexual voice said, that belonging to the person on the bike. “Sorry for the time,” he got off the bike and took off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar. “I know you don’t like to wait.” the slightest of wind plowed through his black hair, ruffling it around even more than what the helmet probably did.

A wide smile spread out on Damian lips, his green eyes lightening up. “Jason,” he nearly whispered, almost as if he was so ecstatic to meet his friend that he couldn’t speak.

In a second the younger had sprung from the stairs, throwing himself on Jason. Jason, who hadn’t anticipated the hug, almost fell backwards but thankfully caught himself in the last second. As Damian wrapped his arms around his friend’s neck and legs around his waist, Jason supported the little guy by wrapping his own arms around his little frame. Damian was certainly not one for any sort of affection, everyone had learnt that from years back, but the few times that he did you were sure to embrace them.

“Missed me?” Jason asked quietly as he started to rub small circles on Damian’s back. The younger gave off a little whimper and nodded as good as he possibly could with his face down in the crook of Jason’s neck. “Sorry for like, ignoring you, kiddo. Thought it would be a little pleasant surprise if I just randomly visited. I told Timbo that I was going to visit yesterday, and we thought you’d be happy over a little surprise.”

“I hate surprises,” Damian mumbled into Jason’s neck, taking in the slight cologne smell that came from his friend. “And I certainly don’t like that you didn’t reply. I missed you, and you know that I did…” he clutched a little harder onto Jason’s brown leather jacket. His heart stung a little, because he truly had missed Jason. The guy had totally ignored him for months on end, and everyone else kept on telling him to wait because Jason was his own person and didn’t have time for Damian all the time. He knew that it was true, but it didn’t help in the least to close his bleeding wounds.

“You may be half a head shorter than me and not as muscular as I am but you still weigh a little, Mini-Me,” Jason said, voice a little strained with a laugh added at the end. Damian frowned but got off him, dropping to the ground in front of him. As usual Jason was dressed in his iconic leather jacket and some band shirt under it - this time it being what Damian thought to be Three Days Grace - with a pair of ripped gray jeans. Of course Damian had been influenced by his superior’s clothing choices, he had a style that Damian envied. Even if he couldn’t rock that specific outfit that Jason did, the name Mini-Me hadn’t come out of nowhere.

“What plans did you have in mind for today?” Damian asked and glared at an older lady ogling at him from the other side of the street.

Jason eyed the woman as well, who was not so subtly trying to take photos of their conversation. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her, but she didn’t seemed fazed by the fact that she was invading their privacy. So to avoid more photos to be taken of them and given to the paparazzi, Jason raised his middle finger. Damian was quick to pull his hand down and whisper to him not to be insensitive, because even if Damian did have tendency to be rather blunt in the photos people would take of him, he’d made it a rule not to flip someone off. It wasn’t respectful and Damian just found the action to be ridiculous.

It was however worth it as the lady looked so deeply offended that Damian could have yelled at her to go and die and she would have looked the same. He scolded the older however, told him to never do such a thing again, which Jason only laughed off. He wasn’t famous in any sort of way so being disrespectful to people wouldn’t necessarily harm him.

“You wanna grab something to eat and then do some shit?” Jason proposed and looked down at the younger with his harsh, blue eyes.

Damian nodded and Jason threw the helmet he earlier had been wearing to him. “What are you going to protect yourself with then?” The young man asked as he put on the helmet he was given.

Jason grinned widely at him. “I’m gonna be a little illegal today,” with that, he threw his left leg over the seat and placed his hands on the handlebars. “And you can’t do shit about it.”

He glared at the older, not in the least pleased that he was going to drive without a helmet on. Motorcycle accidents were some of the most common ones on the highways and Damian was not planning on losing Jason in one either. But he also knew that he indeed could not do shit about it. Jason was a stubborn soul and once he’d settled on something, he would keep to it.

So Damian grumbled a few words on how stupid it was, before swinging a leg over the motorcycle behind Jason, positioning himself so he could wrap his arms around the other’s waist. He’d always found it a little embarrassing having to rely on Jason to get him anywhere freely. If he wasn’t busy, the guy was a great ride as he wasn’t as strict as his other friends were. Dick was laidback, sure, but Jason broke the rules. There were multiple times that he’d driven when there was a red light - resulting in many honks at them - and more often than never did he pass people when he wasn’t supposed to. Damian found it to be thrilling however, as what they did would he never be permitted to do otherwise.

The feeling of riding a motorcycle was one of Damian’s favorite. Maybe it was Jason’s recklessness that made it ever the more exciting, or just that it felt like freedom. He wasn’t restricted by the people around him, he didn’t feel trapped like he always did when he was at home or around others. But when he sat on that bike it was different, he was shielded, people didn’t recognize who he was. Even if they got the occasional side glare, most likely of Jason’s incompetence of not knowing the basic safety measures.

“Who’s the man?” Jason said as he parked the motorcycle, Damian swiftly jumping off the bike. “I’m the man. Who’s the man? I’m the man,” he snapped his fingers - as good as you could in leather gloves - and bobbed his head a little to the beat he had in his head. “Didn’t I tell you I am very much the safest way of getting around town? I’ve had this motorcycle for years by now, and I haven’t been in one single accident. I mean there have been multiple close calls, but close doesn’t equal dead.”

“Clearly not,” Damian muttered and took off the helmet. A wide grin spread out on Jason's lips and a snort left him as he took the helmet from the younger, ruffling around his hair at the same time. Jason’s own hair didn’t look any better as it had been ruffled around by the strong winds that has gripped onto it. Previously he’d gotten a pretty good helmet hair, but now he looked downright ridiculous with the hair pointing in multiple directions. Damian guessed that his own hair looked something similar to Jason’s, although more patted down. The hairspray was maybe not as necessary as he may have imagined.

The two friends entered the fast food chain that Jason had driven them to, Damian scrunching up his nose as he felt the bad odor almost attacking him. It was one of Jason’s favorite fast food chains however and despite being crude and insensitive, Damian would always have a soft spot for the ones he called his brothers. Jason was a particularly sensitive one, even if he never would admit to.

“Well this would be more pleasant,” Jason said as he put down the food they’d got in a booth. “If people would stop ogling at your hotness,” there was annoyance in the voice, and while Damian usually didn’t appreciate people staring at him in the least, it was rather humorous to see Jason so riled up about it. He would never admit to that either, but it was something that never went unnoticed to anyone. Jason had a way of radiating anger.

The two men sat down in the booth, Jason giving Damian his vanilla milkshake and french fries. As Jason was supposedly a real man who needed to eat a lot, he had ordered two big burgers alongside a big pack of fries and a big drink. Damian certainly was not as tall nor muscular as Jason was but he’d truly never understand how he’d just be able to stuff his face like that. It had always been seen as rather grotesque in his eyes, but after years of knowing each other and watching Jason stuff his face with whatever food was nothing unique to Damian.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jason said with a mouth full of food. “Of when you are going to get yourself a fuckin’ girlfriend,” Damian rolled his eyes, already tired of the topic in question. “I mean you are a single, hot guy in his twenties, it’s time for you to romance someone. You’ll also get some good publicity out of it so it’s not like it’s a bad thing, or?”

Damian looked down at his lap, prickling a little with the hem of his shirt. There wasn’t really no reason for him not to search for love. All he did was paint and study. Bruce would have been elated if Damian suddenly had said that he wanted to get a girlfriend. It was well important that Damian would transfer the genes that he’d inherited, and get himself a beautiful and intelligent woman to conceive a child with. Only thing was that Damian did not have any intent on engaging in any sort of relationship.

“I would appreciate it if we did not talk about my relationship status in public,” Damian muttered and poked around with a french fry in his milkshake. “Even having it as a topic is troubling to me. Father has persisted enough and it’s only recently that I got him to stop trying to match me with random women that I don’t have any ties with.”

“You’re young, hot and should be down to fuck - what is there you don’t desire in a woman?” Jason gave him a doubtful look and put the straw of his drink in between his lips.

“Her genitalia.”

As fast as those two words left Damian’s mouth he regretted them. The coke that once was in Jason’s mouth landed both on Damian’s clothes and face. A few people around them looked over to the couple, some sniggering and others giving them a look of sympathy. A little further away there was a man taking a photo of the incident, and Damian grumbled a little as he took a napkin to dry the liquid off himself.

“Sorry,” Jason said in between laughs. “I just thought it was funny. I’d never take you for being gay but hey, whatever suits you.”

Damian, who suddenly was in no good mood, raised on an annoyed eyebrow. “Not here to start any sort of ruckus nor a rumor but I wouldn’t frown upon such a thing, no. My sexual orientation however is not to be discussed in public, so I would be glad if we’d stop this conversation or steer it onto another path.”

Jason shrugged and then continued eating, topic already forgotten. He respected whatever wishes Damian had for most of the time, but for some unknown reason he always persisted on the fact that Damian had yet to get himself a girlfriend. It’s not that he had anything against women, they could occasionally be nice, but the thought of entering a relationship with one was just loathsome to him. There was nothing in a relationship that he couldn’t get compared to when he wasn’t in one.

They finished their meal - with the occasional disturbances from fans who wanted an autograph or take a picture - and then went to leave. Damian knew that he couldn’t go out in public for any sort of business without someone shouting his name or coming up to him. He’d gotten used to it by now, but by each year it got worse and worse. The older he got the more grown up did he look, and while he still sort of looked like he was seventeen, there were new people taking interest in him for each year that went. It was mostly girls in their teens, but also a good number of both girls and guys in his own age.

Sometimes, when fame was starting to strain on Damian’s declining mental health, he just wanted to disappear. There had been an open investigation on where his mother had went and people suspected that it was a kidnapping, that her fame and beauty had gotten her kidnapped. For years had the police been searching for her, but she had yet to turn up. It had set up a strict protection over Damian, which is the reason as to why Dick still to this day was his caretaker. Bruce couldn’t possibly let the money machine Damian slip from his fingers.

Talia wasn’t necessarily someone that he missed dearly. Bruce had been distraught, but the little seven year old Damian was absolutely numb. His mother was always away on business meetings or doing modelling jobs, having no time for her only son. That left the young boy having to rely on his favorite butler, Alfred. As Damian had gradually gotten older, Alfred told him about how ever since Talia had disappeared Bruce had been even the more emotionally declined. He’d always been a cold soul, someone who didn’t open up to people, but Talia had changed that. When she disappeared however the old Bruce was back, now even harsher than before.

To a lot of people who knew the true him, Damian was a lot like the Bruce before Talia. He was cold, emotionally declined but had an unbelievable sense for adapting to situations. Now Bruce was only cold and didn’t smile for any camera that was directed towards him. At least Damian had the common sense to smile whenever it was necessary, like at an event. Bruce didn’t care, not any longer, and such a thing was very clear if you saw photos of him during the time he was with Talia and the time after. He had been happy.

Damian’s mind wandered in between thinking of his mother and the people around him as he sat behind Jason on the older’s motorcycle. There were people all around, no one paying them any sort of mind, just like his mother had to him. The only thing they’d get was the occasional side glare from people because of Jason’s recklessness, something which Talia too had mastered. It was a subtle act and one that Damian had taken up as well. His glare was usually considered ruder than Talia’s had been as he was not only the son to her but also Bruce Wayne, the master of the straight on glare.

“And here we are!” Jason exclaimed as he stopped the bike. “The best and shittiest playground in the world!” Damian got off from the bike, giving the helmet to Jason who hung it on the handlebars.

It truly was a shitty playground. Damian wasn’t even sure if he’d truly even call it a playground. There was a set of swings, with only one swing however as the other was now only two metal chains hanging. A merry-go-round was placed a few meters away, and as to make a sort of triangle was a pair of monkey bars placed out. All of them looked like they had seen better days, but Damian wasn’t expecting an old playground in the middle of the woods to be any good. Especially not when it was apparently Jason’s favorite place when he was younger.

“And why is it that you’ve brought me here, precisely?” Damian questioned and tilted his head upwards a little. “It is certainly a good place for you to murder me and then dispose of my body, I must say.”

Jason chuckled a little and ruffled around Damian’s hair, a classic action for the older when he found something that Damian said amusing. “Well I was planning on bringing you to the most precious place on Earth for me when I was younger. But also to talk about another important thing - what you’re doing in Metropolis.”

“Speaking about it in public is nothing I would recommend, Jason,” Damian muttered as the two started walking over to the little triangle playground. Of course Jason’s name was to be slightly emphasized, Damian always had a way of emphasizing names and make them seem more venomous.

“All these years that I’ve been here the only person I’ve ever seen around here is Dick and that’s because I once showed him this place when we were younger,” Jason stated and climbed up on the rusty monkey bars. “This is way more secure than your house where there like workers fuckin’ everywhere. We’re in the middle of a forest which lies the fuck outta nowhere on a playground that no one knows about.”

“We are still in public, Todd.”

Jason rolled his eyes at that. When he had gotten hired as Damian’s teacher he’d been quick to point out that he did not want to be called Mr. Todd or the like. But who was Jason to Damian other than his teacher really, so for the first two years Damian had insisted on calling him Mr. Todd. One day, out of the blue however, had he called him Jason. That day was also the first they went to Jason’s favorite fast food chain as a way of celebrating Damian’s advances.

“So how many people have you brutally murdered?” Jason asked and grinned at the younger, whose turn it was to roll his own eyes. Damian walked over to the broken swing set and sat down on the only swing that was left, the chains creaking loudly. He didn’t weigh a lot but the swing sure was old.

“I wouldn’t like to phrase it as murder,” Damian said as he started to swing lightly back and forth. “I would call it serving justice on those people who has yet to get it. It is a punishment on those who believe they can get away with everything and anything. I am simply doing what the government isn’t doing.”

“Chill, kiddo,” Jason said, laughing a little at the bitterness in the younger's voice. “I’m not interested anyways. Murder is nothing I give a shit about anyways, unless it’s shrouded in mystery because fuck yeah. But what I really was meant to ask you Waac about how it’s been going recently. Heard from Dick that you were plannin' on meeting Superboy or whatever. Apparently kid has some cool superpowers- or well I actually now that- but have you actually met him or was that like a fuckin’ myth?”

“Yes, he and I have actually formed a team, sort of,” Jason raised his eyebrows, seemingly surprised that Damian had succeeded in befriending someone. “Don’t act so surprised, the person I am in Metropolis differs from the one I am in Gotham. He actually decided to give me a name, apparently I look like I could be named Robin. A weird but at least unique name, I guess.”

Jason practically gawked at Damian, eyebrows raising way further than what had been seen before. “You accepted the fact that he gave you a nickname?” Damian nodded uncertainly, eyebrows furrowing in the slightest. “What the fuck, dude? Why do you accept the fact that he gives you a name after like knowing you for a few weeks-"

“Barely twenty-four hours.”

“For barely twenty-four fuckin’ hours, but I- Jason Peter Todd- who has known you ever since you were two-"

“Stop exaggerating,” Damian said. “You’ve known me since I was fourteen, not two. Not even Dick has known me since I was two, it is only father and Alfred who have known me ever since I was two out of the people that work with or by father. Besides, he made a good point - he doesn’t know my name and has to call me by something other than “dude” or “you”. As I don’t want my identity to be known by anyone besides you, Dick and Timothy the most logical reason was to give me a nickname.”

“And he thought you looked like you could be named Robin?” Jason asked doubtfully and raised on an eyebrow. Damian nodded at the question, not finding it specifically weird. If Superboy truly thought that he looked like he could be named Robin, Damian was not one to object. Even if he himself didn’t think he looked like he could be named Robin in a million light years, it wasn’t an ugly name by any means. He'd rather be called Robin than a thing like Batman or whatever.

“Beaten any cool criminals or shit?” Jason then proceeded to ask.

“Not by any means were they cool, but yes I have beaten up some criminals,” Damian answered. “As recently as yesterday did I- or well Superboy and I- stumble upon a group of men I found to be rather suspicious. They were dressed in identical brown coats and had black fedoras. I also found a mark on different parts of their bodies, identical marks which I later did some research on. I found out that the men were possibly in a clan which has been kidnapping people in Metropolis and selling to other cities as slaves of any sort. Their most iconic dress choice is brown coats accompanied with a black fedoras.”

“Oh,” Jason said and dragged out the usual small word for an unnecessary amount of time. “So you’re practically going to be like chasing a fuckin’ clan? How cool isn’t that? Like holy fuckin’ shit I’d be fuckin’ psyched. How the hell aren’t you like in the least excited?”

Damian gave the older a dull look. “Jason you know very well a lot of things don’t excite me,” he started to swing a little more, the tip of his toes leaving marks in the small amount of sand under his feet. “Besides, I’m not entirely sure on what I should do about it. I can’t possibly track them down and believe they’ll take me to their headquarters to meet their leader.”

“Can’t you ask Timbers for help?” Jason proposed. “The dude has amazing hacking skills and is the smartest person I know. Like isn’t he who did all your high-tech gadgets for your adventures in Metropolis? I know he did the mask as to make it resistant to x-ray stuff and like fire, and your grappling hooks as not to pop the bones in your body.”

Damian grumbled lowly. Despite all the help that Tim had provided with to Damian, it was still hard for him to accept the older. Tim gotten to work with Bruce at the mere age of eighteen, as he’d already earned himself a great reputation and a bachelor’s degree. The two didn’t start of good in any sort of way. Tim had been very jealous of Damian, who despite having a business mind and being highly intelligent as well, always got the praise for things he didn’t necessarily do. Even Damian had to admit that Tim was usually the driving force behind most things that were done in the office, and he hoped deeply that Bruce one day would realize that.

Jason jumped off the monkey bars and made a beeline over to Damian. As he was such a manly macho man he just had to grip ahold on the metal bar holding the swing together, heaving himself up and down without any problem. “I’d do it,” he simply stated, earning the attention from Damian yet again. “It’s sort of a thing I’d do. Search them up, beat the shit out of them and shut that circle thing down. I’d even bring myself a companion if needed.”

A snort escaped Damian and he started to swing a little more, feeling the grinning Jason staring somewhat intensely at him. “My interests my not lie there, but if that is one of your wishes I am inclined to fulfil it. After all, I am one of the very few people to have decided to protect a city that may very well lead to my death, isn’t that right?” the small smirk that painted his lips was identical to the one Jason usually pulled, and if there was any moment that he was to be proud of the kid - it was that.


	5. Jonathan Kent, Under The Gray Hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took me forever lmao but fuck I keep changing fandoms so much halp me also I hate this chapter but like I'm too lazy to rewrite 8 000 words and the chapters always go in directions I don't like so whatever I never plan, I barely even know the ending any longer

“No but if you do like this,” Kathy mumbled and lightly pushed her blond bangs away from her smooth face. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she looked over to Jon, who only pushed his glasses up on his nose and gave her a curious look. “Help.”

Jon sighed, a small smile spreading out on his chapped lips. He’d been friends with Kathy for a few years by now, and he already knew that she wasn’t necessarily the smartest person. She had a lot of wit and motivation inside of her, but it usually got lost within her confusion. Normally she wasn’t one to give in easily, but when it came to doing math, apparently it was so.

“Give me a look then,” Jon said and gestured for her to give him her book and notes. She passed them over the table, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. “Well you’re not supposed to take x times two here, but instead divide it. Then you should be able to get it right,” he passed her books back to her, Kathy giving off a frustrated sigh.

She glared at it for a few seconds, then she threw the book off the table to her right. Jon wasn’t amused by her behavior in the least and just continued on with scrolling around on his phone. He would have joined her if there was need for him to work, but as it was summer break and math always had been one of his strong ships, he didn’t find it necessary. His family couldn’t afford for him to go to the insanely expensive college anyways, even if both he and Lois had tried hard to collect enough money. Kathy on the other hand had money stored away for her future, and with a little complications had she succeeded in getting into the nearest college.

“You want some food?” She proposed and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Jon, who still wasn’t used to Kathy’s unexpectedness, looked at her rather confusingly. It was a simple question, and even if Jon usually was considered smart he could sometimes think slower than a snail. “Uh, yeah, yeah sure.”

Kathy got up from her seat and walked over to the little mini fridge. It was a small kitchen, a mini fridge, stove and two counters lined up against one wall with a small table only made for two stood on the other side of the room, next to a window. Even if it was very small, Jon still found it be cozy. Probably because of the small space. Jon’s apartment was a little bigger than Kathy’s, which wasn’t too surprising, Lois worked her ass off. 

“Is it okay with hot dogs?” Kathy looked up at Jon, who nodded a little absently. While she started to cook, Jon looked around the news on his good old flip phone. It was nowhere near as fancy as the ones that Jon had seen available in Gotham, but it was enough for him to be able to call his mother when really needed. For the usage of it now however it was to look at the news.

According to Lexcorp News there had been a savage gang fight that had taken place on the West Road, outside of a district with many apartment complexes. The fact that no one had reported on it must have meant that it was another powerful gang which had gone against Carnifex, the gang that had been beaten down. It could possibly be Superboy however, or his new companion which had been reported around the streets. Apparently they’d caught up with the savage vigilante and he was already raising some eyebrows in the city.

Superboy’s companion, sidekick, right hand- whatever, was very different from his partner, or at least according to the article. Last night a woman had apparently been kidnapped by the cult Carnifex when Superboy had disrupted everything, only that there was someone else helping him this time. The other male had apparently stated something along the lines of “you know very well I like fighting”, indicating that the two had possibly been in each other's company numerous of times. They also seemed to match each other's fighting styles, so if it turns out they’ve fought side by side before it would surprise no one.

Jon found that to be a little amusing. He knew that the two worked together rather well, despite their differentiating styles in fighting. While Jon liked to inflict as little as pain possible - which was virtually impossible for a powerhouse like him - but make sure to knock them out as not to feel the immense pain, Robin had a more vigor style. As far as Jon could determine, Robin’s goal wasn’t to let the men suffer, but to end their lives as quickly as possible. To let them know that justice may not be as painful but more deadly.

The superhero part of his life differed so much from the regular part. He enjoyed whenever he could be himself, not having to care about every single individual that crossed him. Kathy was always the one who pulled him out of it. She may be his only friend outside of his family but damn if she wasn’t someone who Jon needed desperately at times. She knew Jon, Robin knew Superboy. Two very different people knowing the one same person, only under very different aliases.

“Hit me baby one more time,” Kathy sang as she jumped around a little by the stove, bopping her head to the music in her head. “I like Britney Spears, sue me,” she said, apparently feeling Jon’s intense glare in her neck. He only laughed a little and gathered their respective things to put in the corner of the small table.

Many times had the two had a meal together at her house. Kathy always disguised it as something nice that the two friends did regularly, but Jon knew that she saw it as a date. He didn’t have the balls to tell her he was not interested in her in slight fear of her cutting their friendship of, and her demanding some reason as to why. Not that she would but Jon wasn’t quite ready yet to admit that he was indeed very gay.

“So have you heard the latest celebrity gossip?” Kathy questioned her best friend as she put two hot dogs on the small plate in front of Jon, putting a third one on her own plate.

As he had close to zero interest in celebrity gossip or drama Jon had no idea. If you’d ask him to name any celebrity he would have to stop for a good few seconds before he actually could say someone. Then it would probably also end up to be someone like Alan Scott, who was an old actor from the 50’s. The only reason Jon knew him was because they owned three old movies with him in them.

“Well it just happens to be that everyone’s favorite hottie bad boy,” Jon groaned loudly as Kathy said those words, already starting the ‘guess the celebrity’ in his head. “Damian Wayne has gotten himself into some press trouble recently, again. Apparently he said that he wouldn’t say no to entering a relationship with a guy which I find to be… interesting. I mean I wouldn’t take him for being gay of all things.”

“Is there anything wrong with that, or?”

The harsh glare that Jon sent her seemed to put Kathy on edge a little as she laughed nervously, heartbeat rising rapidly. “Well no, of course not, never. You know just- he’s a ladies man. All the women want him and well I guess it would make sense if he was gay as he’s rejected almost like every single woman who has tried something with him. How unfortunate,” she laughed a little and shook her head.

“Still don’t understand why anyone would chose to date an asshole like that,” Jon muttered and poured some milk into his glass. “I mean dude has abused his goddamned mistresses or whatever. He obviously isn't worth having someone to love him as all he does is ruin them.” The justice part of Jon was shining through, and while he wasn’t necessarily mad over it wholeheartedly, it was unfair to the people who cared.

“He’s hot, what more can I say?” Kathy sat down in front of him and brushed away the invisible dust on her arms. “And he has money, the brains, the status and the personality. Literally the only bad thing about him is that he can’t seem to stay in a relationship. Maybe he has some problems after Talia disappeared, I mean it would make sense, wouldn’t it? Your parents have a great influence on you.”

Jon nodded and sighed, taking a bite of the hot dog. He didn’t know anything about Damian Wayne nor who Talia was, although he did recognize the name as his mother's. Kathy had went on and on about Damian before and while Jon had to admit that he was indeed very attractive, something about him just seemed, off. As if he was putting on a charade. But every time some fan met him alone - which is when you are to expect them to be rude - he was just as nice as he was in front of the cameras with big crowds. Only time that Jon ever had heard him being rude was those relationships scandals, which is why he still wondered why anyone would willingly get together with him.

Okay Damian had never actually entered a relationship with any of them and Jon truly did not care about it either but he still didn’t like seeing the bad guys getting the good girls. It was always so unfair to him. No, Jon didn’t want to get together with any of the numerous of beautiful women that had tried Damian, but he couldn’t help but to feel a little envious towards him.

Outside it started raining, heavily. Drops were making their way down the thin glass, intervening with each other and becoming a bigger drop, only to disappear once they were knocked into a third party. Rain never particularly bothered Jon, not even when he was out on missions late at night as it was impossible for him to contract any human diseases, rather the opposite, he actually quite liked it. It both lured the more dangerous criminals out but kept the majority away.

“Hey, Jon,” Kathy mumbled and twirled a part of her hair around her finger. A sense of nervousness was suddenly radiating from Kathy, and her heart was beating rapidly. Fearing for the worst, that is a love confession, Jon was quick to cut her off with what came up in his mind first.

“Have you ever had a crush on someone of the same gender?”

Bright blue eyes were staring back at him, confusing, anxious and slightly agitated. Jon was just as confused over what he said as she was because really, Jon just said the first thing that popped up. Clearly it wasn’t a good idea as he felt his face flush and legs suddenly feeling restless, a sign for his anxiousness or nervousness. It was almost as if ants were crawling all over his body, biting at random places and dragging their little legs all over his white skin. Tingles were rocketing all through his body and Jon was ready to just bolt out of the apartment any second as the agonizingly long seconds just kept on going as Kathy stared at him.

“Uh, no?” she then said slowly, letting her hands fall to the table. “What made you think of that?” an awkward laughter fell from her lips, making it even worse.

“Damian Wayne,” was what slipped past Jon’s lips, although that could be no further from the truth. “The guy is a magnet to everyone, and while I don’t necessarily like him as a whole he has a really pretty face. A really pretty one,” he mumbled the last part because if he was to be honest, Jon had no idea how he looked other than black hair and green eyes so alluring you would feel everything and nothing at the same time.

After another painful few seconds and Jon decided that he’d had enough. He thanked Kathy for the nice time they had but that he was going to retreat back to his apartment now. An awkwardly short goodbye hug later and Jon was lying in his bed, hands behind his head and eyes set on the stain in the ceiling. Whatever the hell that was had caught Jon’s eye for the millionth time, the drumbeat of the rain accompanying it and giving a hollow atmosphere in the empty apartment.

Summer break was fantastically, amazingly and bewilderingly boring. When he was a kid, summer break was the highlight of the year. He would spend time with his whole family back then, and at night he’d go out on patrol with his dad. But now with Superman gone and the town always in dire need of help from someone and Jon took up the mantle. With Robin’s appearance the night had become a little funnier as he got to spoke with someone during the patrol. He had missed the times he had with his dad. Going on patrol was, no matter how gruesome the crimes were, always something that Jon cherished. Looking back it now, it was the one thing that Jon missed he most about his childhood.

The teen had to admit that he did a rather satisfactory job. Back when he was a child Jon had it way harder to control his powers, sometimes ending up hurting innocent civilians. None of his powers had been nearly as strong as they were today compared to five years ago. As he went through puberty - the most awkward phase in his whole life - his powers seemed to go through the roof. By the age of fifteen had he gotten exceptionally better at controlling them, and good was that, as a single protector over the city he was envisioned as a force to be reckoned with.

Then Robin had popped up out of absolutely nowhere. One day he wasn’t there and the other he was, and something in Jon just told him to run while he could. Never before had he met someone quite like the other, someone who dared to fight for their right and with that much grace and skill. There didn’t seem to be any powers residing within the boy, so that a mere human was able to do such things just baffled Jon. Why Robin hadn’t shown himself until now however was something that troubled Jon.

If the guy now had been able to do all of those things- kicking, jumping, slicing with those goddamned swords- he must have trained those abilities for an extended period of time. How he now however was able to do that was left to be unknown. He must have come from somewhere other than Metropolis, must have. Jon was sure he'd notice someone with such abilities way earlier than what he originally had. Robin did however seem to have some escape artist knowledge as well as be extraordinary silent. He was in the least a force to be reckoned with.

A few hours passed. Jon went around doing nothing for a while, like he usually did. There wasn’t a lot to do in their apartment. They had a TV, and Jon had a flip phone but that was about it. They only had the standard channels and Jon didn’t want to waste all of his 3G on nothing other than mindless tapping around. While his family weren’t the poorest in the city, they weren’t the richest either, landing them in a comfortable middle class. It was all thanks to how much Lois worked and soon Jon was too as well. He’d promised his mother that he would get a job after the summer break, which may be easier said than done, but with his physique it may be a little easier to get one that may strain on your body.

Evening dawned and Jon yawned loudly and stretched out his body. The sound of when his back popped was satisfying to the teen and so a small grin spread itself out on his lips as the sound echoed in his ears.

It had stopped raining by now and outside the window it couldn’t be classified as being dark. The sky was orange with a mix of a warm pink, but the light still shone upon the buildings, shadows casted against the broken concrete. It was a rather peaceful sight with not too many people or vehicles seen down below, but Jon knew the secrets of the streets very well. Once the darkness had truly engulfed everything in its sight it was the worst of people who were to step forward, at the same time calling for Superboy.

In the matter of a few seconds was Jon clad in another outfit, another him. He and Superboy were not the same person, which was rather visible when you spoke to him in comparison to Jon. Superboy had a harder exterior, someone who dared to speak up for what he believed in. He was confident, but not to the point where he became cocky. Jon on the other hand was a little softer, not wanting to intentionally hurt anyone. It was rare to see the boy angry while Superboy had no problem letting the negative emotions out of him, although he was to restrict himself in some occurrences.

“Oh my god, it’s Superboy,” was a common thing for Jon to hear whenever he was out. People would point and stare, mouth agape with awe. Yet after all the years that Jon had roamed the streets, acting as the city’s protector, they were not used to seeing him. The comments had long ago stopped meaning something to him but it was nice every once in awhile to hear some kid yelling at him, telling him to come down from the sky and give them an autograph or something. Of course he never did, Jon had no such time, but he’d gladly talk to a kid whenever he got to chance.

As usual, when there seemed to be no crime being committed, Jon sat down on the edge of a random building’s roof. It was a beautiful sunset and if he had the chance would he take to look at it. A lot of times had he and Superman sat atop of a building, looking longingly at the sunset. Well, Jon was sitting while his father stood up. But those old times were times that now seemed so distant, as if they never happened in the first place, a time so far away it almost seemed like a fantasy.

More and more did he miss his father. The arrival of Robin made him think of him even more and the longing was getting worse. Four years had it been of loneliness. Four years of nothing but beating criminals every single day- or night really- alone and in company of nothing but the weather and few stray animals that weren’t infected by something. People had offered to help him, people who knew the victims of a crime that Jon had stopped, but they’d never had any sort of experience with combat nor did anyone outside of himself and his dad have any powers - at least what Jon knew of.

Then did Robin appear. The alluring fighter who used brutal methods to get what he wanted, but still serving justice in a way he saw fit. There seemed to be no superpowers behind his skill, only years of training and a large dose of talent. His usage of weapons would possibly be rare other wise, and with the way that he used both speed, power and his whole body to inflict any possible damage made it seem as if he was just another ordinary human. How much of an ordinary human you now could be as a beautiful ass-kicking ninja.

A slight breeze swept past him, grabbing ahold of his hair and making it fall back into his eyes again. A few kilometers away, the sound of a cape swirling. It was out of place. It didn’t fit in with the engines of the shitty cars, not with the words falling from the people’s lips and not with the noises the animals made. The swirling of a cape was not a thing that was on the list of common or uncommon sounds, not even rare. A sound so out of place seemed however to be something Jon had to get used to.

With a quick movement had the teen stood up, and with a small leap he jumped off the roof. The way the wind grabbed ahold of his body, the resistance against it, always made him feel somewhat free. But of course did all that come to a halt when he stopped mid-air. There was no need for him to crash down into the concrete and leave a horrid imprint that was possibly never to be repaired.

“Hey, kid,” Jon said clearly as a warning as he landed behind Robin, who too was standing on the edge of a roof however on a different building. His hood was up over his styled, jet-black hair and the way-too-long-for-Jon’s-taste cape was loudly announcing its presence. The shorter of the two turned around with a scowl on his face, tablet in his hands.

A small and fascinated ‘o’ left Jon and he leaned forward - as well as downwards, guy was really short - to take a better look at it. The light was gleaming onto Robin’s in the slightest tanned skin complexion and made the darker lines on his face more prominent. The tablet itself however was something Jon only had seen on TV. It was way too big for Robin’s smaller hands but he managed to hold in it successfully. He should have considering his abilities as a fighter, holding a goddamned tablet shouldn’t be anything considered troublesome.

“Wayne Tech, eh?” Jon asked and tilted his head a little to the side, cocking an eyebrow.

Robin finally looked up at him, possibly to meet his eyes. “Yes. To be considered high-tech for the lower and middle class.”

“Not from around?”

Robin pulled his rather plump lips into a thin line. His heartbeat picked up a little, pumping blood excessively to quicker give him a bigger supply of air. “I guess I have the right to tell you that I am not from Metropolis, no. Judging from the nasty look you currently are giving me I am entrusting you with the information that I am from Gotham City, which you possibly already made as an assumption.”

Jon did get that expression since the first time he met Robin, but getting it confirmed was another thing. Gotham City, a place so foreign to the mind of Jonathan Kent. The technology was far more advanced than what Jon could afford, and there were only rich people living in that city. No wonder, with Robin’s gadgets and skills some money must have been put into both. His team partner was possibly a money machine, someone that Jon easily could kidnap and force a ransom for. 

Come to think of it, why hadn’t he pulled off Robin’s mask to see whose eyes were underneath? It would happen in the spawn of a second, and Robin wouldn’t be able to do anything to prevent it. But of course that was never to happen. Jon wasn’t planning on breaking the little trust that Robin had for him, especially not now when they recently just had gotten to know each other. For all Jon knew Robin could be some sort of abomination - when it came to his eyes because everything that Jon could see was incredibly beautiful - behind that mask. Maybe there was something he wanted to hide other than his identity, something that he was embarrassed of, and Jon didn't want Robin to feel self-conscious. It was most likely to hide his true identity however as he had yet to reveal his true name.

“Take a look at this,” Robin stated and turned the tablet around so Jon could take a look at it. On the screen was an article, an article on a cult called Carnifex. Jon had heard about it before although he had very limited information about them. Never had it crossed his mind to actually do any research on the gangs or cults in the city, mostly because of the limited amount of money he had, but to him if a bad guy was a bad guy he was a bad guy, just that. Not inclined with any gang or cult.

“They have been recently reported around the area where we were yesterday,” Robin stated and turned the tablet back to himself again, shutting it off. “They kidnap people to sacrifice to their beliefs via execution - their name is the latin word for executioner or butcher. For supposed decades have they been roaming in Metropolis, kidnapping those they seek worthy. Their most common victim is women between the ages of thirty and forty as there is apparently something more pure about them, although children is also a common target. People who allegedly sin a lot do not seem to catch their interest, their almighty ruler wants those who are more clean as that is easier to devour.”

Jon wrinkled on his nose, suddenly feeling rather dirty. He had no idea that such things were happening in the city. All those kidnappings that he’d stopped did he never make a connection between, they were all executed in such different ways. Some were pulled from the streets by one guy, others lured by a group. Then Jon wasn’t a criminal investigator of any sort and he was way busy trying to separate his real life from his alias’, as well as beating up other criminals which were roaming the streets. Never did he truly have time to care about each and every individual.

“I was thinking,” Robin stated and pressed on a button on the side of the tablet, shrinking the size of it and making Jon go ‘oo’ in amazement. “That we’d open up an investigation on it. Their cult have grown massively in the last few years, and if we manage to stop them maybe there won’t be as many kidnappings in this city. A cult always has a motive, a goal, of some sort which a lot of times can lead to other being put in very dangerous situations.

“Years ago, in the 40’s I believe, back when Gotham City wasn’t what it is now, it was tormented by a cult going by the name Suicide Squad. Their initial motive was to get people to follow their one and holy ruler, Darkseid, who was later to help them take over the world. The woman who held in it was absolutely crazy, but her abilities in manipulation was beyond what anyone had seen before, and more often than never was she described as being so sane she was doubted insane by most people. Despite that however she managed to rank up a total of two million members during the mid 50’s. Then she sent out a message of a suicide pact. Every member were to commit suicide all throughout September, as apparently that was the time when Darkseid was most likely to take their soul and wish them forward to his paradise.

“In actuality, the members were just tricked into committing suicide. The woman who led it - I believe her name was Amanda Waller - was later more commonly referred to as a psychopath. She had found satisfaction in the control she had, but then realized that it had gotten way out of control and that others wanted her position, so she decided to kill off some. A few over a hundred thousand members ended up killing themselves and Waller was later on convicted and executed. They too kidnapped people, brainwashing them to join however. If the brainwashing didn’t work, they’d murder their victim.”

“That’s… that’s horrible…” Jon mumbled, earning a shrug from his partner.

“Nothing we could have prevented.”

“But still…”

A thick silence covered the air between the two, lying itself down as a dome. Jon thought it was rather awkward, kicking his dirty shoe down into the concrete, but Robin seemed to be thinking of other things as his lips were drawn into a thin line again. Yet again was his jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. Thoughts always seemed to be rushing at an immense speed in his brain, registering all the information he takes in to process and remember. He never seemed to put too much thought into Jon - or Superboy - as much as Jon put into him. Then again he probably wasn’t gay and so utterly attracted by his partner as Jon was.

“A few cults have a base where they reside at times,” Robin informed him, absently looking out at the city. “Carnifex seem to be one of those. While they haven’t been around for too long, their member rate seems to have been grown increasingly fast the past ten years. Recent reports state that people have been brutally murdered - more precisely executed - in a forest going by the name of-"

“The Sacrifice Forest, of course, what a dumbass I am,” Jon groaned loudly and slapped his palm harshly against his forehead, earning a rather curious look from Robin. “I mean the fuc- freaking forest got its name from all the sacrifices made by groups and cults or whatever. How the heck didn’t I connect the dots before?”

“You simply didn’t think of it?” Robin proposed.

A low grumble left Jon. He didn’t want to seem less than Robin possibly was expecting from him. The guy was seemingly talented in a lot of things, or so Jon speculated, brain and brawn was something that he seemed to combine.

“How far away is the Sacrifice Forest?” Robin asked and pulled at his gloves, moving around his delicate fingers in a smooth but rather strained movement.

“A good distance away,” Jon confessed, hearing the faintest of sighs leaving Robin’s lips. “But if you think that it’s anything that will be too straining on your body, because really those grappling hooks must be killing you, I could always carry you,” his voice went up an octave at the end, showing of his excitement a bit too much.

If the two boys would have been in an anime, a purple sort of power would have been radiating from Robin, showing of his pissed of mood. But now they weren’t in an anime, nor a comic of any sort, so instead Robin just decided to give Jon a disgruntled look. Even if the teen couldn’t see the other’s eyes, he was sure they were slightly lidded, giving off the “I’m so done with your shit right now" look.

“Show me the way and I’ll go after you,” Robin simply said and graciously unhooked his grappling hook from his belt, spinning it around on his index finger before stopping it quickly with a harsh grip, almost as if he was in an old western movie. That little shit eating smirk played on his lips, and Jon couldn’t but to make a slightly friendlier copy of it.

Having no time to waste, Jon slowly started hovering off the ground and shot up into the sky, wanting to get a better look over the city. The forest was in the outskirts of the city, and the city had done nothing about it ever since there had started to pop up rumors about cults making sacrifices and people committing suicide there. The government had close to zero interest in trying to prevent people from taking others’ as well as their own lives. No surprise there, they only cared about themselves after all.

Jon made sure to see that Robin was after him all the way to the forest. He didn’t seem to possess any superpowers - but Jon still wasn’t a hundred on the fact that he didn’t - and so it was harder to keep up with the half kryptonian. The way Robin moved however was graceful, slinking around each building without any problems and almost twirling, it almost made Jon think of a ballet dancer. Not that he knew anything about ballet, such luxuries never occurred over in Metropolis.

“Hey,” Jon shouted as he landed outside of the official gates to the forest. Robin swung from one of the nearby trees and swiftly landed on his feet, bending his knees as to make the impact not as harsh. His cape swung around his body deliciously, and Jon watched the male as he put the grappling hook in his belt. How the hell the boy hadn’t strained a muscle or thirty was still a mystery to Jon. Maybe he did have a superpower after all.

“This is it, right?” Robin asked as he started to shuffle with gadgets in his belt.

“Yup,” Jon confirmed and shivered slightly as he heard a distant scream. Robin didn’t seem to notice, it was probably because of Jon’s super hearing that he picked it up, but he was glad the other male missed it. “Absolutely random question,” Jon said and looked down at the shorter, who nodded as a brief continue. “Do you have ballets in Gotham?”

Robin seemed to be confused for a second or two, silence and the loss of movement in him signaling just that. He cleared his throat however and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I guess we do. I mean of course we do, I however tend not to watch any of them. They are rather popular with the culture maniacs, something I can assure you I am not.”

A small, barely noticeable smile spread itself out on Jon’s lips, and he nodded. He wasn’t necessarily interested in what the other had to say, but more or less trying to loosen up the tension between the two. There had undeniably set up another wall of protection in Robin’s psyche when Jon had gotten to know that the lad came from Gotham, it all just showed on him. While the two didn’t know each other well at all, Jon was someone who cared deeply for people and thus tried to notice the smallest of things that most may not pay attention to.

“Any powers that may seem efficient to use to scan this area quicker than by foot?” Robin asked without taking his eyes off the dark forest in front of him.

“I can always fly around with my x-ray vision in use,” Jon answered, waiting for a confirmation of any sort from Robin. Not that he actually needed it, Jon was independent, but getting a plan confirmed by the other was pretty much the basics of a team up.

“Do so.”

Jon waited for a second until he lifted into the air and activated his X-ray vision. Most of the time he tried to avoid using it. There was always the strange tingling feeling behind his eyes that he never could get rid of while they were active, and then there was also the fear that he would see something he’d rather don’t. Murder and crime was nothing on his mind as compared to people undressing and… doing other things.

He made a quick scan over the forest, noticing no human presence, that other than Robin’s. Animals were there lots of, including a bear and her little cubs, but he had no intention of interfering. He knew better than to fight a bear and Jon was not feeling like ruining his clothes at the moment, time wasn't holding up too great to make new ones.

As Jon made his way back to the opening of the forest, he noticed that Robin was on his phone. It was pressed up against his ear and he was whisper-shouting at whoever was on the other line. Jon was curious as to find out who the caller was but decided not to try and focus on what the other was saying.

“Drake, I swear to god if you have- no I never said such- listen- for fucks sake,” Robin went silent, turning around to stare at Jon. Or at least that’s what Jon thought, he couldn’t tell as Robin hid his eyes behind that damn domino. “What has father to say about it? Has he even noticed? No exactly like I predicted. Tell Grayson about it, he will come up with something, currently out- no no… yes he’s standing in front of me… No, not yet. Drake I swear to god- no, you’re not my parent- stop it… Yes… Yes, I know. Yeah, give it to Grayson and make him report back, thanks. Bye, bye.”

With a heavy sigh, Robin put his phone into one of the pouches on his belt. “Did you find anything?”

Jon shook his head, hair falling back over his eyes. “Only animals,” Robin scrunched up his nose at that, crossing his arms over his chest yet again. “Uh, I’m gonna go ahead and invade your privacy here by a million steps - but what was that call about? I heard you mentioning your father and some people called Drake and Grayson. I mean you sounded stressed so I was thinking that maybe I can help you relax or something…”

It took a few seconds but Robin finally let his arms fall to his sides. He ran one of his hands through the slight disheveled mess of black hair on his head and let the strands move softly through his gloved hands. There clearly seemed to be something wrong, even someone who didn’t know the guy could possibly pick that up.

“My father doesn’t know that I’m here, and today was the perfect day to ask my… friend, Drake where I was,” Robin explained, looking down at his boots. “He wants me to come home as he thinks that I may reside with my other friend, Todd. That is obviously not true as I’m currently here with you, and Drake is well aware of that, but he can’t tell father. Father may or may not send someone to pick me up over at Todd’s, which wouldn’t end well as I am here and not there. I told Drake to talk to Grayson, another friend, and now I just hope his charismatic nature will solve things. Father has great trust in him and I really don’t hope there will be an investigation of any sort on father’s side.”

“He sure does worry.”

Robin snorted, shaking his head. “No, he doesn’t worry, he’s a control freak. Wants me to take over his company but I’m not in the least interested. I have great potential and I know that, but I’m not at all interested. Then life is no longer about freedom and adventure but about control- why am I telling you this?” he looked up at Jon from keeping his gaze at the ground, yet again crossing his arms over his chest.

As expected, Jon didn’t have an answer to that. All he had done was asking what was wrong and hadn’t actually believed that he’d get an answer. He was pleasantly surprised to find out that he was wrong however, but Robin seemed to catch on his fondness of Superboy, tragically enough.

Robin opened his mouth to speak when a little jingle that Jon didn’t recognize whatsoever stopped him. He put a finger into the air and took out his phone, putting it to his ear as he said “yes, Grayson?”

Jon decided to be a nosy fucker and listened in on whatever Grayson was saying, unbeknownst to the two. “Bruce is going to go absolutely mental soon, I can’t seem to calm him down. Alfred tried as well an-"

“Grayson, I swear to fucking god,” Robin mumbled, running a hand through his soft hair. “I really don’t have time at the moment, I am caught up in a rather urgent situation-"

“Urgent?” Grayson yelled at him, making Robin flinch. “What the fuck, Dami? Bruce will call the cops unless you get home in like ten or something! Seriously, you've been gone for too long now and I do not want to be at the receiving end of Bruce’s rage. So get your petty ass back home now or say goodbye to the adventures in that fucking city, understood?”

Robin bit down in his bottom lip, but a low hum left him. “Be there soon,” he hit the ‘end call’ button before Grayson had time to say anything else, and as Robin looked up at Jon he gave him a bitter fake smile. “Grayson says I have to be at my residence in Gotham, a situation has occurred and it requires immediate action. I apologize thoroughly for this, and I promise I will make it up for you in the future.”

“Think we can meet tomorrow?” Jon tried, hoping that he could get to meet the talented beauty soon.

Robin sighed however, kicking with the tip of his boot in the grass. “I don’t believe so, a family situation usually takes its fair share of time to solve. I promise that I will make it up to you and that I will meet you as soon as I possibly can.”

“I’ve memorized your heartbeat already so,” Jon shrugged on his shoulders, smiling. “I’ll notice when you get back here and then I’ll make sure that we get to the bottom with this cult you’ve heard of. As horrific as it sounds I am actually looking forward to it a little.”

What Jon hoped to be a genuine smile spread itself out on Robin’s face and a low and short lived laugh left him. “Yeah, I feel the same,” and as if he was a part of the darkness that had begun surrounding the two he was gone. Jon could never quite understand how he did it, just as if he never was there. He must have been exceptionally quick with those damn grappling hooks, or he knew teleportation, Jon didn’t know which he was going with. Or maybe super speed even.

As Robin had left the location Jon suddenly felt a lot more unsure standing outside of the haunting forest. Robin’s confidence must have been brushing off on him, and so he decided to make his way back home instead. He ended up helping a handful of people, but it was never something he would say no to. Helping others was what he was here to do, the reason he was born. Or well, it felt like it, it probably wasn’t but as the only person in the city who possessed superpowers Jon felt as if it was his duty. At least ever since his dad had disappeared.

Unlike what Jon had been, Robin didn’t seem to be on good terms with his dad at all, rather quite the opposite. His dad must have been that Bruce guy that Grayson was talking about. Bruce sure as hell was a bit of a control freak. But then again Jon didn’t know the whole story, not even the background to it, so it was rather hard to formulate his own opinion on the matter. All he knew was that he felt that sting of sadness and sympathy for Robin as he told him solemnly that he had to leave.

“Bruce, whoever the guy-” Jon stopped in his muttering, as well as his steps as he went up the stairs. A flow of emotions and thoughts flew right through him, and is if he’d just gotten high for the first time in his life it was overwhelming. He gripped the railing next to him, looking down at his feet that were starting to become a little blurry.

As quick as he possibly could did Jon make his way to their apartment, throwing off his outfit and putting on some regular jeans and the Kon-El shirt. It was rather tight, just like Kon-El’s from the comics he read when he was a child. Just like Kon-El’s shirt from the comics did it also have the iconic K in a hexagon on the chest, printed in a bloody red. How badly he missed the times that he didn’t have to bother about protecting Metropolis.

Forgetting what he was supposed to do for a second, Jon quickly sprinted out of his apartment and over to Kathy’s. “Kathy? Do you have a second?” he announced loudly as he peeked into the room to his immediate left, that being Kathy’s bedroom.

She looked up from the book she was reading, giving Jon a rather panicked look. “Jon? What are you doing here?” the disheveled look on her face said everything - she was more confused than when doing homework.

“Do you know stuff about Damian Wayne?”

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

“Can I get a photo of him? Since you think he’s god or whatever the shit like everyone does even me I guessed that you would have a picture of him on your phone or something. Please don’t question me and hurry up, thank you,” Jon was nearly jumping around on the place with impatience, but Kathy was quick to do as he asked. It took a little bit longer than what Jon would have liked but soon there was a picture of a handsome man in front of his face.

“You know what his parents’ names are? Like does he have any siblings? Friends?” Jon took the phone from her hand and stared intently at Damian, who was starting to feel more and more familiar.

Kathy tucked a part of her blond hair behind one of her ears, sighing. “I would like an explanation,” when Jon didn’t answer it was evident that he was not listening to what she said or actively ignoring it. “Well his family currently consists of Bruce Wayne, aka his dad. His mother-"

“His friends? Does he have any friends?”

“Jon!” Kathy almost yelled, finally getting her friend to look up from her phone. “What’s going on? Why are you suddenly so obsessed with Damian Wayne? You have never shown any sort of interest in him before. As a friend I demand an explanation!” she crossed her arms over her chest and puffed out her cheeks slightly. She was not going to answer any more questions, Kathy was a very stubborn girl, but Jon really couldn’t just randomly reveal whatever to her. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

“I- I just…” Jon looked up to the ripped wallpaper in the right corner of Kathy’s room, suddenly finding it oddly interesting. “Will you just trust me on this, please?” he looked back at her with pleading blue eyes, a sudden staring contest sneaking up between them. It didn’t take too long for Kathy to give up, sighing and lowering her gaze to her lap. It made her seem oddly depressed, but Jon really needed answers and quick too.

“Well he has a reputation for not being able to form true friendships with others, well except for like his butler and old teacher or whatever. I expect you want to know their names, or what?” She looked up at him with disappointment in her eyes, but it seemed to fly past Jon as he only nodded. “Dick Grayson is his butler and Jason Todd used to be his teacher but is nowadays his friend, I guess. Then there’s the relationship between him and Bruce’s personal assistant Tim Drake, they have a strange relationship.”

“Does Damian happen to ever be called Dami?”

“Yeah, by Dick at times. I-"

“Thanks, love you,” Jon handed back the phone to Kathy, kissing her forehead quickly before he ran back to his own apartment. He heard how Kathy called out for his name but let their door slam shut behind him, cutting her off. There was no way that he could stay there, no way in fucking hell. His hands were shaking slightly, and as he locked the door to his apartment behind him he slowly slid down to the floor, back against the door.

His thoughts were all a jumbled mess. He didn’t know what thought he was going to start on. They were all yelling loudly in his head, too loudly. He couldn’t think straight- for God's sake why was he reacting so drastically? It could all have been some major coincidences. Maybe the world just had more to give than what Jon was willing to explore.

He knew it was a lie however. It couldn't be a coincidence, it wasn’t one. Damian had the same smirk as Robin, the same skin complexion, nose, jaw - the only thing that he couldn’t determine was the eyes. The fact they both had a dad named Bruce? People close to them called Grayson, Todd and Drake? No fucking way that the two weren’t the same person, no way. Damian was rich, he could afford everything Robin had, he could afford all that extensive training.

Jon let his head fall down in his hands, shaking it slowly, trying to make sense of it all. But no matter how much he was trying, it all just came to the one same point.

Robin was obviously Damian Wayne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D R A M A S H A L L U N F O L D

**Author's Note:**

> Are the people in this fandom nice or what not. Or are they like in the bandom where they keep roasting each other haha


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